THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MUSIC 
LIBRARY 


mi^m. 


d 


OPERAS 
EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 


./K 


POEMS  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  Maxy  E.  Burt 
FAIRY  TALES  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  H.  W.  Mabie 
MYTHS  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  H.  W.  Mabee 
SONGS  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  Dolores  Bacon 
LEGENDS  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  H.  W.  Mabie 
HEROES  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  H.  W.  Mabie 
BIRDS  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

By  Neltje  Buvnchan 
WATER    WONDERS    EVERY    CHILD    SHOULD 
KNOW 

By  Jean  M.  Thompson 
FAMOUS    STORIES    EVERY     CHILD     SHOULD 
KNOW 

Edited  by  H.  W.  MABIE 
HYMNS  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  Dolores  Bacon 
HEROINES  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Co-edited  by  H.  W.  Mabie  and  Kate  Stephens 
ESSAYS  EVERY   CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  H.  W.  Mabie 
PROSE  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  Mary  E.  Burt 
PICTURES  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

By  Dolores  Bacon 
ADVENTURES    EVERY    CHILD    SHOULD    KNOW: 
PINOCCHIO 

Edited  by  Mary  E.  Burt 
KIPLING   STORIES   AND  POEMS   EVERY   CHILD 
SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  Mary  E.  Burt  and  W.  T.  Chapin 
WILD  FLOWERS  EVERY   CHILD   SHOULD   KNOW 

By  Frederic  Willlam:  Stack 
TREES  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

By  Julia  Ellen  Rogers 
EARTH  AND  SKY  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

By  Julia  Ellen  Rogers 
OPERAS  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  Dolores  Bacon 
FOLK  TALES  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

Edited  by  H.  W.  Mabie 


UECFRIED 


OPERAS   THAT  EVERY 
CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 

DESCRIPTIONS    OF    THE     TEXT    AND     MUSIC    OF 
SOME     OF    THE    MOST     FAMOUS    MASTERPIECES 


:BY: 


DOLORES    BACON 


Decorated  by 
BLANCHE  OSTERTAG 


G.VRDEX  City        New  York 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1913 


ALL  BIGHTS   RESERVED     INCLUDING  THAT  OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO   FOREIGN   LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 


COPYRIGHT,    igix,   BY  DODBLEDAY,   PAGE   fc  COMPANY 


Library 

FOREWORD 

In  selecting  a  few  of  the  operas  every  child  should 
know,  the  editor's  greatest  difficiilty  is  in  determining 
what  to  leave  out.  The  wish  to  include  "  L'Africaine," 
"Othello,"  "Lucia,"  "Don  Pasquale,"  "  Mignon," 
"  Nozze  di  Figaro,"  "  Don  Giovanni,"  "Rienzi"  "  Tann- 
hiiuser,"  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  "  Parsifal,"  "Freischutz," 
and  a  hundred  others  makes  one  impatient  of  limitations. 

The  operas  described  here  are  not  all  great  composi- 
tions: Some  of  them  are  hopelessly  poor.  Those  of 
Balfe  and  Flo  tow  are  included  because  they  were  expres- 
sions of  popular  taste  when  our  grandfathers  enjoyed 
going  to  the  opera. 

The  Nibelung  Ring  is  used  in  preference  to  several 
other  compositions  of  Wagner  because  the  four  operas 
included  in  it  are  the  fullest  both  of  musical  and  story 
wonders,  and  are  at  the  same  time  the  least  understood. 

"Aida"  and  "Carmen"  belong  here  — as  do  many 
which  are  left  out  —  because  of  their  beauty  and  musi- 
cal splendour.  Few,  instead  of  many,  operas  have  been 
written  about  in  this  book,  because  it  seemed  better  to 
give  a  complete  idea  of  several  than  a  superficial  sketch 
of  many. 

The  beginnings  of  opera  —  music-drama  —  are  un- 
known; but  Sulpitius,  an  Italian,  declared  that  opera 
was  heard  in  Italy  as  early  as  1490.  The  Greeks,  of 
course,  accompanied  their  tragedies  with  music  long  be- 
fore that  time,  but  that  would  not  imply  "opera"  as  we 


vi  Foreword 

understand  it.  However,  modern  opera  is  doubtless 
merely  the  development  of  that  manner  of  presenting 
drama. 

After  the  opera,  came  the  ballet,  and  that  belonged  dis- 
tinctively to  France.  Before  1681  there  were  no  women 
dancers  in  the  ballet  —  only  males.  All  ballets  of  shep- 
herdesses and  nymphs  and  dryads  were  represented  by 
men  and  boys;  but  at  last,  the  ladies  of  the  court  of  France 
took  to  the  ballet  for  their  own  amusement,  and  thus 
women  dancers  became  the  fashion. 

Even  the  most  heroic  or  touching  stories  must  lose 
much  of  their  dignity  when  made  into  opera,  since  in 
that  case  the  "music's  the  thing,"  and  not  the  "play." 
For  this  reason  it  has  seemed  necessary  to  tell  the  stories 
of  such  operas  as  "II  Trovatore, "  with  all  their  bombas- 
tic trimmings  complete,  in  order  to  be  faithful  in  show- 
ing them  as  they  really  are.  On  the  other  hand,  it  has 
been  necessary  to  try  to  treat  "Pinafore"  in  Gilbert's 
rollicking  fashion. 

Opera  is  the  most  superficial  thing  in  the  world,  even 
if  it  appears  the  most  beautiful  to  the  senses,  if  not  to 
the  intelligence.  We  go  to  opera  not  specially  to  under- 
stand the  story,  but  to  hear  music  and  to  see  beautiful 
scenic  efifects.  It  is  necessary,  however,  to  know  enough 
of  the  story  to  appreciate  the  cause  of  the  movement 
upon  the  stage,  and  without  some  acquaintance  of  it  be- 
forehand one  gets  but  a  very  imperfect  knowledge  of  an 
opera  story  from  hearing  it  once. 

A  very  great  deal  is  said  of  music-motif  and  music- 
illustration,  and  it  has  been  demonstrated  again  and 
again  that  this  is  largely  the  effort  of  the  ultra-artistic 
to  discover  what  is  not  there.  At  best,  music  is  a  "con- 
cord of  sweet  sounds"  —  heroic,  tender,  exciting,  etc.; 


Foreword  vii 

but  the  elemental  passions  and  emotions  are  almost  all 
it  can  define,  or  even  suggest.  Certain  music  is  called 
''characteristic"  —  anvil  choruses,  for  example,  where 
hammers  or  triangles  or  tin  whistles  are  used,  but  that  is 
not  music  in  its  best  estate,  and  musical  purpose  is  best 
understood  after  a  composer  has  labelled  it,  whether  the 
ultra-artistic  are  ready  to  admit  it  or  not. 

The  opera  is  never  more  enjoyed  than  by  a  music  lover 
who  is  incapable  of  criticism  from  lack  of  musical  knowl- 
edge: music  being  first  and  last  an  emotional  art;  and  as 
our  emotions  are  refined  it  requires  compositions  of  a 
more  and  more  elevated  character  to  appeal  to  them. 
Thus,  we  range  from  the  bathos  and  vulgarity  of  the  mu- 
sic hall  to  the  glories  of  grand  opera! 

The  history  of  opera  should  be  known  and  composers 
classified,  just  as  it  is  desirable  to  know  and  to  classify 
authors,  painters,  sculptors,  and  actors. 

Music  is  first  of  all  something  to  be  felt,  and  it  is  one  of 
the  arts  which  does  not  always  explain  itself. 

Dolores  Bacon. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 


I.    Balfe:    The  Bohemian  Girl  ...  3 

II.    Beethoven:    Fidelio       35 

III.  Berlioz:    The  Damnation  of  Faust  51 

IV.  Bizet:     Carmen 69 

V.    DeKo\ten  :    Robin  Hood       ....  95 

VI.    Flotow:    Martha 105 

\TI.    Humperdinck  :    Hansel  and  Gretel  135 

Mil.    Mascagni:     Cavalleria    Rusticana  152 

IX.     Meyerbeer:    The  Prophet      ...  163 

X.    Mozart:    The  Magic  Flute     ...  191 

XL    Sullivan:     Pinafore 218 

XII.     Verdi:      Rigoletto,    II    Trovatore, 

AiDA 238 

XIII.     Wagner:     The  Nibelung  Ring,  The 
Mastersingers  of  Nuremberg, 

Lohengrin 306 


OPERAS 
EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD  KNOW 


OPERAS  EVERY  CHILD  SHOULD 
KNOW 

BALFE 

THE  story  of  The  Bohemian  Girl  is  supposed  "to 
have  been  taken  from  a  French  ballet  entitled  The 
Gipsy,  which  was  produced  in  Paris  in  1839.  Again,  it 
is  said  to  have  been  stolen  from  a  play  written  by  the 
Marquis  de  Saint- Georges,  which  was  named  La  Bo- 
hemienne.  However  that  may  be,  it  would  at  first 
sight  hardly  seem  worth  stealing,  but  it  has  nevertheless 
been  popular  for  many  decades.  Balfe,  the  composer, 
had  no  sense  of  dramatic  composition  and  was  not  much'' 
of  a  musician,  but  he  had  a  talent  for  writing  that  which 
could  be  sung.  It  was  not  always  beautiful,  but  it  was 
always  practicable. 

The  original  title  of  La  Bohemienne  has  in  its  mean- 
ing nothing  to  do  with  Bohemia,  and  therefore  a  literal 
translation  does  not  seem  to  have  been  especially  appli- 
cable to  the  opera  as  Bunn  made  it.  The  story  is  placed 
in  Hungary  and  not  in  Bohemia,  and  the  hero  came  from 
Warsaw,  hence  the  title  is  a  misnomer  all  the  way  around. 
It  was  Balfe  who  tried  to  establish  English  opera  in  Lon- 
don, and  to  that  purpose  he  wrote  an  opera  or  two  in 
which  his  wife  sang  the  principal  roles;  but  in  the  midst 
of  that  enterprise  he  received  favourable  propositions 
from  Paris,  and  therefore  abandoned  the  London  engage- 

3 


4  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

raent.  When  he  went  to  Paris,  The  Bohemian  Giri 
was  only  partly  written,  and  he  took  from  its  score 
several  of  its  arias  for  use  in  a  new  opera.  When  he  re- 
turned to  London  he  wrote  new  music  for  the  old  opera, 
and  thus  The  Bohemian  Girl  knew  many  vicissitudes 
oflF,  as  well  as  on,  the  stage. 

The  first  city  to  hear  this  opera,  outside  of  London, 
was  New  York.  It  was  produced  in  America  at  the 
Park  Theatre,  November  25,  1844.  The  most  remark- 
able thing  about  that  performance  was  that  the  part  of 
Arline  was  sung  in  the  same  cast  by  two  women,  Miss 
Dyott  and  Mrs.  Seguin:  the  former  singing  it  in  the  first 
act,  the  latter  in  the  second  and  third.  When  it  was 
produced  in  London,  Piccolomini  (a  most  famous 
singer)  sang  Arline  and  it  was  written  that  "applause 
from  the  many  loud  enough  to  rend  the  heavens" 
followed. 

Because  of  this  inconsequent  opera,  Balfe  was  given 
the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honour  from  Napoleon  III., 
and  was  made  Commander  of  the  Order  of  Carlos  III. 
by  the  regent  of  Spain.  This  seems  incredible,  for  good 
music  was  perfectly  well  known  from  bad,  but  the  un- 
defined element  of  popularity  was  there,  and  thus  the 
opera  became  a  living  thing. 

A  story  is  told  of  Balfe  while  he  belonged  to  the  Drury 
Lane  orchestra.  "Vauxliall  Gardens"  were  then  in 
vogue,  and  there  was  a  call  for  the  Drury  Lane  musi- 
cians to  go  there  to  play.  The  "Gardens"  were  a  long 
way  ofi',  and  there  was  no  tram-car  or  other  means  of 
transportation  for  their  patrons.  Those  who  hadn't  a 
coach  had  no  way  of  getting  there,  and  it  must  have  cost 
Balfe  considerable  to  go  and  come  each  day.  He  de- 
cided to  find  lodgings  near  the  Gardens  to  save  himself 


The  Bohemian  Girl  ^  5 

expense.  He  looked  and  looked,  on  the  day  he  first  went 
out.  Others  wanted  the  same  thing,  and  it  was  not  easy 
to  place  himself.  However,  by  evening,  he  had  decided 
to  take  anything  he  could  find;  so  he  engaged  a  room  at 
an  unpromising  looking  house.  He  was  kept  waiting  by 
the  landlady  for  a  long  time  in  the  passageway,  but  at 
last  he  was  escorted  up  to  his  room,  and,  being  tired  out, 
he  immediately  went  to  bed  and  to  sleep.  In  the  morn- 
ing he  began  to  look  about,  and  to  his  horror  and  amaze- 
ment he  found  a  corpse  stowed  away  in  a  cupboard. 
Some  member  of  his  landlady's  family  who  occupied  the 
bed  had  died.  When  he  applied  for  the  room,  he  had 
been  made  to  wait  while  the  previous  occupant  was 
hastily  tucked  out  of  sight.  After  that,  he  never  hired 
lodgings  without  first  looking  into  the  cupboards  and 
under  the  bed. 

Balfe  was  a  good  deal  of  a  wag,  and  his  waggishness 
was  not  always  in  good  taste,  as  shown  by  an  incident  at 
carnival  time  in  Rome.  His  resemblance  to  a  great  pa- 
troness of  his,  the  Countess  Mazzaras,  a  well-known  woman 
of  much  dignity,  induced  him  upon  that  occasion  to  dress 
himself  in  women's  clothes,  stand  in  a  window  conspicu- 
ously, and  make  the  most  extraordinary  and  hideous 
faces  at  the  monks  and  other  churchmen  who  passed. 
Every  one  gave  the  credit  of  this  remarkable  conduct  to 
the  Countess  Mazzaras.  Balfe  had  pianos  carried  up  to 
the  sleeping  rooms  of  great  singers  before  they  got  out 
of  bed,  and  thus  made  them  listen  to  his  newly  composed 
tunes.  He  sometimes  announced  himself  by  the  titles 
of  his  famous  tunes,  as,  "We  May  Be  Happy  Yet," 
and  was  admitted,  and  received  as  readily  as  if  he  had 
resorted  to  pasteboard  politeness. 

In  short,  Balfe  was  never  a  great  musician,  yet  he  had 


6  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

all  the  eccentricities  that  one  might  expect  a  great  mu- 
sician to  have,  and  he  succeeded  quite  as  well  as  if  he  had 
had  genius. 

Balfe  was  born    May   15,    1808,  and  died  October 
20,  1870. 

THE  BOHEMIAN  GIRL 

CHARACTERS  OF  THE   OPERA  WITH  THE  ORIGINAL  CAST 


Arline 

Gipsy  Queen 
Thaddeus 
Devilshoof 
Count  Arnheim 
Florestein 


Scene  laid  in  Hungary. 

Composer:  Michael  Balfe. 
Author:  Alfred  Bunn. 


Miss  Romer. 
Miss  Betts. 
Mr.  Harrison. 
Mr.  Stretton. 
Mr.  Borrani. 
Mr.  Durnset. 


First  sung  at  London,  England,  Her  Majesty's  Theatre,  Drury 
Lane,  Nov.  27,  1843. 

ACT  I 


Many  years  ago,  when  noblemen,  warriors,  gipsies, 
lovers,  enemies  and  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  fra- 
ternized without  drawing  very  fine  distinctions  except 
when  it  came  to  levying  taxes,  a  company  of  rich  nobles 
met  in  the  gardens  of  the  Count  Arnheim  to  go  hunting 
together.  The  Count  was  the  Governor  of  Presburg,  and 
a  very  popular  man,  except  with  his  inferiors. 

They  began  their  day's  sport  with  a  rather  highfalutin 
song  sung  by  the  Count's  retainers: 


'  Up  with  the  banner  and  down  with  the  slave, 
Who  shall  dare  dispute  the  right, 
Wherever  its  folds  in  their  glory  wave. 
Of  the  Austrian  eagle's  flight?" 


The  Bohemian  Girl  7 

The  verses  were  rather  more  emotional  than  intelligent, 
but  the  singers  were  all  in  good  spirits  and  prepared  for 
a  fine  day's  sport. 

After  this  preliminary  all  the  party  —  among  whom 
was  the  young  daughter  of  the  Count,  whose  name  was 
Arline,  and  a  girUe  sort  of  chap,  Florestein,  who  was  the 
Count 's  nephew  —  came  from  the  castle,  with  huntsmen 
and  pages  in  their  train;  and  what  with  pages  run- 
ning about,  and  the  huntsmen's  bright  colours,  and  the 
horns  echoing,  and  the  horses  that  one  must  feel  were 
just  without,  stamping  with  impatience  to  be  off,  it 
was  a  gay  scene.  The  old  Count  was  in  such  high 
feather  that  he,  too,  broke  into  song  and,  while 
singing  that 

"  Bugles  shake  the  air," 

he  caught  up  his  little  daughter  in  his  arms  and  told  how 
dear  she  was  to  him.  It  was  not  a  proper  thing  for  so 
young  a  girl  to  go  on  a  hunt,  but  Arline  was  a  spoiled 
young  countess.  When  a  huntsman  handed  a  rifle  to 
Florestein,  that  young  man  shuddered  and  rejected  it  — 
which  left  one  to  wonder  just  what  he  was  going  to  do  at 
a  hunt  without  a  rifle,  but  the  others  were  less  timid,  and 
all  separated  to  go  to  then:  various  posts,  Arline  going  by 
a  foot-path  in  charge  of  a  retainer. 

These  gay  people  had  no  sooner  disappeared  than  a 
handsome  yovmg  fellow,  dishevelled,  pursued,  rushed 
into  the  garden.  He  looked  fearfully  behind  him,  and 
stopped  to  get  his  breath. 

"I  can  run  no  farther,"  he  gasped,  looking  back  upon 
the  road  he  had  come;  and  then  suddenly  at  his  side,  he 
saw  a  statue  of  the  Austrian  Emperor.  He  was  even 
leaning  against  it. 


8  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Here  I  am,  in  the  very  midst  of  my  foes!  —  a  statue 
of  the  Emperor  himself  adorning  these  grounds!"  and 
he  became  even  more  alarmed.  While  he  stood  thus, 
hesitating  what  to  do  next,  a  dozen  dusky  forms  leaped 
the  wall  of  the  garden  and  stood  looking  at  him.  Thad- 
deus  was  in  a  soldier's  dress  and  looked  like  a  soldier. 
Foremost  among  the  newcomers,  who  huddled  together 
in  brilliant  rags,  was  a  great  brigand-looking  fellow,  who 
seemed  to  lead  the  band. 

"Hold  on!  before  we  undertake  to  rob  this  chap,  let  us 
make  sure  of  what  we  are  doing,"  he  cautioned  the  others. 
"If  he  is  a  soldier,  we  are  likely  to  get  the  worst  of  it"  — 
showing  that  he  had  as  much  wisdom  as  bravado.  After 
a  moment's  hesitation  they  decided  that  caution  was  the 
better  part  of  valour,  and  since  it  was  no  harm  to  be  a 
gipsy,  and  there  was  a  penalty  attached  to  being  a  robber, 
they  nonchalantly  turned  suspicion  from  themselves  by 
beginning  to  sing  gaily  of  their  gipsy  life.  Frequently 
when  they  had  done  this,  they  had  received  money  for  it. 
If  they  mayn't  rob  this  soldier  chap,  at  least  he  might  be 
generous  and  toss  them  a  coin.  During  this  time,  Thad- 
deus  was  not  napping.  The  Austrian  soldiery  were  after 
him,  and  at  best  he  could  not  expect  to  be  safe  long. 
The  sight  of  the  vagabonds  inspired  him  with  hope,  al- 
though to  most  folks  they  would  have  seemed  to  be  a 
rather  uninspiring  and  hopeless  lot.  He  went  up  to  the 
leader,  Devilshoof: 

"My  friend,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you.  I  am 
in  danger.  You  seem  to  be  a  decent  sort  —  gay  and 
friendly  enough.  The  Austrian  soldiers  are  after  me.  I 
am  an  exile  from  Poland.  If  I  am  caught,  my  life  will  be 
forfeited.  I  am  young  and  you  may  count  upon  my  good 
will.     If  you  will  take  me  along  with  you  as  one  of  you, 


The  Bohemian  Girl  9 

I  may  stand  a  chance  of  escaping  with  my  life  —  what 
do  you  say?" 

The  gipsies  stared  at  him;  and  Devilshoof  did  so  in  no 
Gnfriendly  manner.  The  leader  was  a  good-natured 
wanderer,  whose  main  fault  was  stealing  —  but  that  was 
a  fault  he  shared  in  common  with  all  gipsies.  He  was 
quite  capable  of  being  a  good  friend. 

"Just  who  are  you?"  he  asked,  wanting  a  little  more 
information. 

"A  man  without  country,  friends,  hope  —  or  money." 

"Well,  you  seem  able  to  qualify  as  a  gipsy  pretty  well. 
So  come  along."  Just  as  he  spoke,  another  gipsy,  who 
was  reconnoitering,  said  softly: 

"Soldiers  are  coming " 

"  Good  —  we'll  give  them  something  to  do.  Here, 
friend,  we'll  get  ready  for  them,"  he  cried,  delighted  with 
the  new  adventure. 

At  that  the  gipsies  fell  to  stripping  off  Thaddeus's 
soldier  clothes,  and  exchanging  them  for  a  gipsy's  smock; 
but  as  this  was  taking  place,  a  roll  of  parchment  fell  at 
Devilshoof's  feet. 

"What's  this?"  he  asked,  taking  it  up. 

"It  is  my  commission  as  a  soldier  of  Poland  —  the  only 
thing  I  have  of  value  in  the  world.  I  shall  never  part 
with  it,"  and  Thaddeus  snatched  it  and  hid  it  in  his  dress 
and  then  mixed  with  the  gipsies  just  as  the  Emperor's 
soldiers  came  up. 

"Ho,  there!  You  vagabonds  —  have  you  seen  any- 
thing of  a  stranger  who  has  passed  this  way?" 

"What  —  a  Polish  soldier?" 

"That's  our  man." 

"Young?" 

"Yes,  yes  —where  did  he  go?" 


xo  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"A  handsome  fellow?" 

"Have  done  there,  and  answer  —  where  did  he  go?" 

"I  guess  that  may  be  the  one?"  Devilshoof  reflected, 
consulting  his  comrades  with  a  deliberation  which  made 
the  ofl5cer  wish  to  run  his  sword  through  him. 

"  Speak  up  —  or " 

"Yes,  yes  —  that's  right  —  we  have  the  right  man! 
Up  those  rocks  there,"  pointing.  "That  is  the  way  he 
went.     I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  might  catch  him." 

The  officer  didn't  wait  to  hear  any  more  of  this  elabo- 
rate instruction,  but  rushed  away  with  his  men. 

"Now,  comrade,"  Devilshoof  said  to  Thaddeus:  "It 
is  time  for  us  to  be  off,  while  om:  soldier  friends  are  enjoy- 
ing the  hunt.  Only  you  lie  around  here  while  we  explore 
a  little;  this  gipsy  life  means  a  deal  of  wear  and  tear,  if 
a  fellow  would  live.  There  is  likely  to  be  something 
worth  picking  up  about  the  castle,  and  after  we  have 
done  the  picking,  we'll  all  be  off." 

As  the  gipsies  and  Thaddeus  went  away,  the  hunts- 
men rushed  on,  shouting  to  each  other,  and  sounding 
their  horns.  Florestein  came  along  in  their  wake.  He 
was  about  the  last  man  on  earth  to  go  on  a  hunt.  He 
made  this  known  without  any  help,  by  singing: 

Is  no  succour  near  at  hand? 
For  my  intellect  so  reels, 

I  am  doubtful  if  I  stand 
;      On  my  head  or  on  my  heels. 

No  gentleman,  it's  very  clear, 
,      Such  a  shock  should  ever  know, 

And  when  once  I  become  a  peer, 

They  shall  not  treat  me  so 

That  seemed  to  suggest  that  something  serious  had 
happened,  but  no  one  knew  what  till  Thaddeus  and  a 
crowd  of  peasants  rushed  wildly  in. 


The  Bohemian  Girl  ii 

"The  Count's  child,  Arline,  is  attacked  by  an  infuri- 
ated animal,  and  we  fear  she  is  killed," —  that  is  what 
Florestein  had  been  bemoaning,  instead  of  hurrying  to 
the  rescue!  The  Count  Arnheim  ran  in  then,  distraught 
with  horror.  But  Thaddeus  had  not  remained  idle;  he 
had  rushed  after  the  huntsmen.  Presently  he  hurried 
back,  bearing  the  child  in  his  arms.  The  retainer  whose 
business  it  was  to  care  for  Arline  fell  at  the  Count's  feet. 

"Oh,  great  sir,  just  as  we  were  entering  the  forest  a 
wild  deer  rushed  at  us,  and  only  for  the  bravery  of  this 
young  gipsy, "—  indicating  Thaddeus  —  "  the  child  would 
have  been  torn  in  pieces.  As  it  is,  she  is  wounded  in  the 
arm. 

The  Count  took  his  beloved  daughter  in  his  arms. 

"Her  life  is  safe  and  the  wound  is  not  serious,  thank 
God.  Take  her  within  and  give  her  every  care.  And 
you,  young  man  —  you  will  remain  with  us  and  share 
our  festivities  —  and  ask  of  me  anything  that  you  will : 
I  can  never  repay  this  service." 

"Humph!  Thaddeus  is  a  fool,"  Devilshoof  muttered. 
"First  he  served  his  enemy  and  now  has  to  stand  his 
enemy's  thanks." 

Thaddeus  refused  at  first  to  remain,  but  when  his  re- 
fusal seemed  to  draw  too  much  attention  to  the  gipsy 
band,  he  consented,  as  a  matter  of  discretion.  So  they 
all  seated  themselves  at  the  table  which  had  been  laid 
in  the  garden,  and  while  they  were  banqueting,  the  gip- 
sies and  peasants  danced  to  add  to  the  sport;  and  little 
Arline  could  be  seen  in  the  nurse's  arms,  at  a  window  of 
the  castle,  v/atching  the  fun,  her  arm  bound  up. 

"Now,"  cried  the  old  Count,  when  the  banquet  was 
over,  "I  ask  one  favour  of  all  —and  that  is  that  you 
drink  to  the  health  of  our  great  Emperor."     He  rose  and 


12  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

lifted  his  glass,  assuming  that  all  would  drink.  But  that 
was  a  bit  too  much  for  Thaddeus!  The  Emperor  was 
the  enemy  of  Poland.  Most  certainly  he  would  not 
drink  —  not  even  to  save  his  life. 

Florestein,  who  was  always  doing  everything  but  what 
he  ought,  walked  up  to  Thaddeus  and  pointed  out  his 
glass  to  him. 

"Your  fine  acquaintance,  uncle,  is  not  overburdened 
with  politeness,  it  seems  to  me.  Hedoes  not  respond  to 
your  wishes." 

"What  —  does  he  not  drink  to  the  Emperor?  My 
friend,  I  challenge  you  to  drink  this  health."  The  old 
Count  filled  Thaddeus's  glass  and  handed  it  to  him. 

"And  thus  I  accept  the  challenge,"  Thaddeus  cried; 
and  before  Devilshoof  or  any  one  else  could  stop  him,  the 
reckless  chap  went  up  to  the  statue  of  the  Emperor  and 
dashed  the  wine  in  its  face. 

This  was  the  signal  for  a  great  uproar.  The  man  who 
has  dared  insult  the  Emperor  must  be  punished.  The 
nobles  made  a  dash  for  him,  but  the  old  Count  was  under 
an  obligation  too  great  to  abandon  Thaddeus  yet.  He 
tried  to  silence  the  enraged  guests  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said  aside  to  Thaddeus: 

"Go,  I  beg  of  you,  your  life  is  not  worth  a  breath  if 
you  remain  here.  I  cannot  protect  you  —  and  indeed 
I  ought  not.  Go  at  once,"  and  he  threw  Thaddeus  a 
purse  of  gold,  meaning  thus  to  reward  him,  and  get  him 
away  quickly.  Thaddeus  immediately  threw  the  purse 
amidst  the  nobles  who  were  threatening  him,  and  shouted: 

"I  am  one  whom  gold  cannot  reward!"  At  that  the 
angry  men  rushed  upon  him,  but  Devilshoof  stood 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  Thaddeus. 

"Now,  then,  good  folks,  come  on!    I  guess  together 


The  Bohemian  Girl  13 

we  can  give  you  a  pretty  interesting  fight,  if  it's  fighting 
you  are  after!"  A  scrimmage  was  just  in  Devilshoof's 
line,  and  once  and  forever  he  declared  himself  the  cham- 
pion of  his  new  comrade. 

"  Really,  this  is  too  bad,"  Florestein  whimpered, 
standing  at  the  table  with  the  bone  of  a  pheasant  in  one 
hand  and  a  glass  of  wine  in  the  other.  "Just  as  a  man  is 
enjoying  his  dinner,  a  boor  like  this  comes  along  and  in- 
terrupts him."  But  by  that  time  the  fight  was  on,  and 
Thaddeus  and  Devilshoof  were  against  the  lot.  The  old 
Count  ordered  his  retainers  to  separate  the  nobles  and 
the  gipsies,  and  then  had  Devilshoof  bound  and  carried 
into  the  castle.  Thaddeus  was  escorted  off  by  another 
path. 

The  row  was  over  and  the  nobles  seated  themselves 
again  at  the  table.  The  nurse,  who  had  Arline  at  the 
window,  now  left  her  nursling  and  came  down  to  speak 
with  the  Count. 

Immediately  after  she  left  the  castle  chamber,  Dev- 
ilshoof could  be  seen  scrambling  over  the  castle  roof, 
having  escaped  from  the  room  in  which  he  was  confined. 
Reaching  the  window  where  Arline  was  left,  he  closed  it. 
The  nurse  had  been  gone  only  a  moment,  when  she  re- 
entered the  room.  Whatever  had  taken  place  in  her 
absence  caused  her  to  scream  frightfully.  The  whole 
company  started  up  again,  while  the  nurse  threw  open 
the  window  and  leaned  out,  crying: 

"Arline  is  gone  —  stolen — help,  help!"  All  dashed 
into  the  castle.  Presently  some  of  the  nobles  came  to 
the  window  and  motioned  to  those  left  outside.  It  was 
quite  true.  Arline  was  gone.  Out  they  all  rushed 
again.  Every  one  in  the  place  had  gone  distracted.  The 
poor  old  Count's  grief  was  pitiable.     At  that  moment 


14  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Devilshoof  could  be  seen  triumphantly  mounting  the 
rocks,  with  Arline  in  his  arms.  He  had  avenged  his  com- 
rade Thaddeus. 

All  at  once  the  crowd  saw  the  great  gipsy  leaping 
from  rock  to  rock  with  the  little  child  in  his  arms,  and 
with  a  roar  they  started  after  him.  Then  Devilshoof 
seemed  fairly  to  fly  over  the  rocks,  but  the  crowd  gained 
upon  him,  till  they  reached  a  bridge  which  spanned  a  deep 
chasm;  there  Devilshoof  paused;  he  was  over,  and  with 
one  tremendous  effort  he  knocked  from  under  the  struc- 
ture the  trunk  of  a  tree  which  supported  the  far  end  of 
the  bridge,  and  down  it  went!  The  fall  of  timbers 
echoed  back  with  Devilshoof's  shout  of  laughter  as 
he  sped  up  the  mountain  with  Arline. 

The  old  Count  ran  to  the  chasm  to  throw  himself 
headlong  into  it,  but  his  friends  held  him  back. 

ACT  II 

Twelve  years  after  that  day  of  the  hunt  in  Count 
Arnheim's  forests,  the  gipsies  were  encamped  in  Presburg. 
In  those  strange  times  gipsies  roved  about  in  the  cities 
as  well  as  in  the  fields  and  forests,  and  it  was  not  at  all 
strange  to  find  the  same  old  band  encamped  thus  in  the 
public  street  of  a  city.  There,  the  gipsy  queen  had  pitched 
her  tent,  and  through  its  open  curtains  Arline  could  be 
seen  lying  upon  a  tiger's  skin,  while  Thaddeus,  who  had 
never  left  the  band,  watched  over  her.  There  were  houses 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  the  gipsy  queen's 
tent  was  lighted  only  dimly  with  a  lamp  that  swung  at 
the  back,  just  before  some  curtains  that  formed  a  parti- 
tion in  the  tent. 

It  was  all  quiet  when  the  city  patrol  went  by,  and  they 


The  Bohemian  Girl  15 

had  no  sooner  passed  than  Devilshoof  entered  the  street, 
followed  by  others  of  the  gipsy  band,  all  wrapped  in 
their  dark  cloaks. 

"The  moon  is  the  only  one  awake  now,"  they  sang. 
"  There  is  some  fine  business  on  foot,  when  the  moon  her- 
self goes  to  bed,"  and  they  all  drew  their  daggers.  But 
Devilshoof,  who  was  a  pretty  decent  fellow,  and  who 
didn't  believe  in  killing,  whispered: 

"Fie!  Fie!  When  you  are  going  to  rob  a  gentleman, 
you  shouldn't  draw  a  knife  on  him.  He  wdll  be  too  po- 
lite to  refuse  anything  you  may  ask,  if  you  ask  politely" 

—  which  was  Devilshoof's  idea  of  wit.  There  was  a  hotel 
across  the  street,  and  one  of  the  gipsies  pointed  to  a  light 
in  its  windows. 

''It  will  be  easy  when  our  fine  gentlemen  have  been 
drinking  long  enough.  They  won't  know  their  heads 
from  their  heels."  They  stole  off  chuckling,  to  wait  till 
they  imagined  every  one  to  be  asleep,  but  they  were  no 
sooner  gone  than  Florestein,  that  funny  Httle  fop  who 
never  had  thought  of  anything  more  serious  than  his  ap- 
pearance, reeled  out  of  the  hotel.  He  was  dressed  all  in 
his  good  clothes,  and  wore  golden  chains  about  his  neck 

—  to  one  of  which  was  attached  a  fine  medallion.  Rings 
glittered  on  his  fingers,  and  altogether,  with  his  plumes 
and  furbelows,  he  was  precisely  the  sort  of  thing  Devils- 
hoof and  his  companions  were  looking  for.  He  was  so 
very  drunk  that  he  could  not  imagine  what  a  fool  he  was 
making  of  himself,  and  so  he  began  to  sing: 


Wine,  wine,  if  I  am  heir, 
To  the  count,  my  uncle's  Una; 
Wine,  wine,  wine, 

Where's  the  fellow  will  dare 
To  refuse  his  nephew  wine  ? 


i6  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

This  excellent  song  was  punctuated  by  hiccoughs. 
There  was  another  stanza  which  rebuked  the  boldness 
of  the  moon  —  in  short,  mentioned  the  shortcomings  of 
most  people  compared  to  this  elegant  fellow's.  Alto- 
gether, he  was  a  very  funny  joke  to  the  gipsies  who  were 
waiting  for  him  and  peering  and  laughing  from  round  a 
corner  as  he  sang.  Then  Devilshoof  went  up  to  him  with 
mock  politeness.     He  bowed  very  seriously. 

My  ear  caught  not  the  clock's  last  chime, 
And  might  I  beg  to  ask  the  time? 

Florestein,  even  though  he  was  drunk,  was  half  alive  to 
his  danger.  He  hadn't  enough  courage  to  survive  a 
sudden  sneeze.  So  he  braced  up  a  little  and  eyed 
Devilshoof: 


If  the  bottle  has  prevailed, 
Yet  whenever  I'm  assailed, 
Though  there  may  be  nothing  in  it, 
I  am  sobered  in  a  minute. 


One  could  see  that  this  was  quite  true.  Florestein 
was  a  good  deal  worried.  He  took  out  his  watch,  and 
assured  Devilshoof  that  it  was  quite  late. 

I  am  really  grieved  to  see 

Any  one  in  such  a  state, 
And  gladly  will  take  the  greatest  care 

Of  the  rings  and  chains  you  chance  to  wear, 

Devilshoof  said  still  more  politely;  and  bowing  all  of 
the  time  he  removed  the  ornaments  from  Florestein 's 
person. 

What  I  thought  was  politeness,  is  downright  theft, 
And  at  this  rate  I  soon  shall  have  nothing  left, 


The  Bohemian  Girl  17 

the  unfortunate  dandy  moaned,  clutching  his  gew- 
gaws hopelessly,  while  all  the  gipsies  beset  him,  each  tak- 
ing all  he  could  for  himself.  But  Devilshoof  having  se- 
cured the  medallion,  made  off  with  it.  He  was  no  sooner 
gone  than  a  dark  woman  wrapped  in  a  cloak  came  into 
the  street  and,  when  she  was  right  in  the  midst  of  the 
squabble,  she  dropped  her  cloak  and  revealed  herself  as 
Queen  of  the  band.  All  the  gipsies  were  amazed  and 
not  very  comfortable  either!  —  because,  strange  to  say, 
this  gipsy  queen  did  not  approve  of  the  maraudings  of 
her  band;  and  when  she  caught  them  at  thievery  she  pun- 
ished them. 

"Return  those  things  you  have  stolen,"  she  command- 
ed, and  they  made  haste  to  do  so,  while  the  trembling 
Florestein  took  a  hurried  inventory  of  his  property.  But 
among  the  things  returned,  he  didn't  find  the  medallion. 

"I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Madame,  whoever  you 
are,  but  I'd  like  a  medallion  that  they  have  taken, 
returned." 

"That  belongs  to  the  chief  —  Devilshoof,"  they  cried. 

"I'll  answer  for  your  safety,"  the  Queen  said  to  Flore- 
stein, who  was  not  overmuch  reassured  by  this,  but  still 
tried  to  make  the  best  of  things.  "Now  follow  me," 
she  called  the  band,  and  went,  holding  Florestein 
and  dragging  him  with  her. 

They  had  no  sooner  gone  than  Arline,  who  had  been 
awakened  by  the  noise  outside  the  tent,  came  out  into  the 
street.  Thaddeus  followed  her.  She  was  greatly  disturbed. 

"Thaddeus,"  she  said,  "I  have  had  a  strange  dream": 

Aiuliudlno.  -,  :=* 


m 


mar  —  ble    halls, 


i8 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


-9^ 


A-n 


1^=^ 


3 


vassals  and    serfs   at     my     side, 


And    of 


:^ 


^ 


all     who     as  —  sem  —  bled  with  —  in 


those 


S 


-N- 


1^-^ 


fr---B 


walls,  That      I    was   the     joy    and    the     pride. 

I  had  riches  too  great  to  count;  —  could  boast 

Of  a  high  ancestral  name; 
But  I  also  dreamt  (which  pleased  me  most) 

That  you  loved  me  stiU  the  same. 

I  dreamt  that  suitors  sought  my  hand, 

That  knights  upon  bended  knee 
And  with  vows  no  maiden  heart  could  withstand 

They  pledged  their  faith  to  me. 

And  I  dreamt  that  one  of  that  noble  host 

Came  forth  my  hand  to  claim, 
But  I  also  dreamt  (which  pleased  me  most) 

That  you  loved  me  still  the  same. 


When  she  had  ceased  to  sing,  Thaddeus  embraced  her 
tenderly  and  assured  her  that  he  should  love  her  always, 
"still  the  same." 

Arline  had  often  been  troubled  because  of  some  differ- 
ence between  herself  and  the  gipsies,  and  she  had  also 
been  curious  about  a  scar  which  was  upon  her  arm.  So 
upon  that  night  she  questioned  Thaddeus  about  this,  and  he 
told  her  of  the  accident  in  the  forest  twelve  years  before, 
when  she  got  the  wound  upon  her  arm.  However,  he  did 
not  reveal  to  her  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  noble. 


The  Bohemian  Girl  19 

"Thou  wert  but  six  years  old  when  this  accident  befell 
thee,"  Thaddeus  told  her.  But  Arline  was  not  yet 
satisfied. 

"There  is  more  to  tell!  I  know  that  I  am  not  of  this 
gipsy  band  —  nor  art  thou!  —  I  feel  that  this  is  true, 
Thaddeus.  Wilt  thou  not  tell  me  the  secret  if  there  is 
one?  "  and  Thaddeus  had  decided  that  he  would  do  this, 
when  the  curtains  at  the  back  of  the  Queen's  tent  were 
parted  and  the  gipsy  Queen  herself  appeared. 

"Do  you  dare  throw  yourself  into  the  arms  of  this 
man,  when  I  love  him?"  the  Queen  demanded  angrily, 
at  which  Arline  and  Thaddeus  were  thrown  into  conster- 
nation. But  Arline  had  plenty  of  courage,  especially 
after  what  had  just  happened;  hence  she  appealed  to 
Thaddeus  himself.  He  declared  his  love  for  her,  and  the 
two  called  for  their  comrades.  All  ran  in  and  asked  what 
the  excitement  was  about. 

Arline  declared  to  them  that  she  and  Thaddeus  loved 
each  other  and  wished  to  be  married  —  which  pleased 
Devilshoof  mightily.  All  life  was  a  joke  to  him,  and  he 
knew  perfectly  that  the  Queen  was  in  love  with  Thaddeus. 

"Ho,  ho,"  he  laughed.  "Now  we  shall  have  every- 
body by  the  ears.  Come!"  he  cried  to  the  Queen. 
"As  queen  of  the  gipsies,  it  is  your  business  to  unite  this 
handsome  pair.  We  are  ready  for  the  ceremony,"  and 
they  all  laughed  and  becam.e  uproarious.  The  Queen's 
pride  would  not  let  her  ignore  the  challenge,  so  she  ad- 
vanced haughtily  and  took  the  hands  of  the  lovers. 

"Hand  to  hand  and  heart  to  heart, 
Who  shall  those  I've  united  part  ?  " 

she  chanted;  and  with  this  gipsy  rite,  they  were  united. 
Then  the  band  sat  down  in  groups  and  made  merry; 
but  the  Queen  began  to  plot  revenge  against  Arline. 


20  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

While  they  lounged  about,  prolonging  the  revel,  a  gipsy 
entered  and  told  them  that  day  was  dawning,  and  that 
already  the  people  of  the  city  were  awake  and  wending 
their  way  to  a  fair  which  the  gipsies  were  bound  for;  and 
if  they  were  to  make  anything  by  their  dances  and  tricks 
they  had  better  be  up  and  doing. 

"Up,  all  of  you!"  cried  the  moody  Queen,  "and  meet 
me  in  the  public  square;  while  you,  Devilshoof,  stay  be- 
hind for  further  orders."  Whereupon  all  went  down  the 
street,  Thaddeus  and  Arline  hand  in  hand. 

As  soon  as  the  last  gipsy  had  disappeared,  the  Queen 
turned  on  Devilshoof.  "Now,  then  —  that  thing  you 
are  wearing  about  your  neck  —  that  medallion  you 
stole!  hand  it  over;  and  as  for  what  has  just  happened,  I 
shall  not  forget  the  part  you  had  in  it  —  it  was  you  who 
urged  the  marriage  and  compelled  me  to  perform  it  or 
else  betray  myself!  You  shall  pay  for  tliis.  Meantime, 
see  that  you  take  nothing  more  that  doesn't  belong  to 
you,"  and  she  snatched  the  medallion  from  him.  This 
did  not  endear  her  to  Devilshoof,  and  he  determined  to 
have  his  revenge. 

"Now  be  off  and  join  the  rest!"  she  cried;  and  while 
she  left  the  square  by  one  route  Devilshoof  departed  by 
another. 

After  going  a  little  way,  Devilshoof  was  certain  to 
come  up  with  those  who  had  gone  before  and  who  were 
dancing  along,  in  front  of  Arline  and  Thaddeus,  singing 
gaily  about  the  wedding. 

Come  with  the  gipsy  bride, 

And  repair 

To  the  fair. 
Where  the  mazy  dance 

Will  the  hours  entrance. 
Come  with  the  gipsy  bride, 

Where  souls  as  light  preside. 


The  Bohemian  Girl  21 

Thus  they  pranced  along  having  a  fine  gipsy  time  of 
it  till  they  arrived  at  the  fair,  which  was  held  in  a  great 
public  square  in  the  midst  of  the  city.  The  courthouse 
was  on  one  side,  and  over  the  door  there  was  a  sign  which 
read  "The  Hall  of  Justice."  Everybody  seemed  to 
be  at  the  fair:  peasants,  nobles,  soldiers,  and  citi- 
zens; rope-dancers,  quack  doctors,  waxworks,  show- 
men of  all  sorts,  and  bells  rang  and  flags  flew,  and  alto- 
gether it  was  just  the  thing  for  a  gipsy's  wedding  day. 

The  quack  doctor  blew  his  horn,  and  everybody  surged 
about  him,  and  while  all  that  movement  and  fun  were 
taking  place,  Devilshoof  and  Thaddeus  formed  a  sort  of 
flying  wedge  on  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  and  forced  a 
passage  for  the  gipsy  band.  At  that  moment  Florestein 
came  along,  taking  part  in  the  day  as  all  the  rest  of  Pres- 
burg  were  doing,  and  the  first  man  his  eye  lighted  upon 
was  that  miscreant,  Devilshoof.  There  stood  the  man 
who  had  stolen  his  medallion!  There  were  several  gen- 
tlemen with  Florestein,  and  he  called  their  attention  to 
the  gipsy  group.  Meantime  Arline,  like  any  gipsy,  had 
been  going  about  selling  flowers  and  telling  fortunes,  and 
while  those  things  were  taking  place  the  old  Count  Arn- 
heim  and  some  ofiicers  of  the  city  entered  and  tried  to 
pass  through  the  group  to  the  courthouse,  where  the  old 
Count  presided  as  judge.     Florestein  stopped  him. 

"Uncle,  just  stop  a  bit  and  look  at  those  gipsies!  Do 
you  see  that  pretty  girl?  I  am  delighted  with  her.  Even 
an  old  gentleman  like  you  should  have  an  eye  to  a  girl 
as  pretty  as  that,"  he  laughed.  This  was  not  in  very 
good  taste,  but  then,  nobody  ever  accused  the  little  idiot 
of  having  either  good  taste  or  good  courage. 

"I  have  no  eyes  for  beauty  since  my  Arline  was  lost 
to  me,  nephew,"  the  old  man  returned  sadly,  and  passed 


22  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

to  his  courtroom.  But  Florestein  pressed  through  the 
crowd  till  he  reached  Arline's  side. 

"You  are  a  pretty  girl,"  he  said  boldly,  ogling  her. 
"Come!  you  are  teaching  others"  (Arline  had  been 
telling  a  fortune),  "teach  me." 

"A  lesson  in  politeness,  sir? — you  need  it,"  and 
Arline  slapped  his  face;  not  at  all  the  sort  of  thing  a 
countess  would  do,  but  then  she  had  been  brought  up  a 
gipsy,  and  couldn't  be  expected  to  have  all  the  graces  of 
her  ancestors.  The  Queen,  who  had  been  watching, 
ready  to  make  trouble,  called  Thaddeus's  attention  to  the 
incident,  and  Thaddeus  shouldered  his  way  through  the 
crowd  just  in  time  to  slap  Florestein's  face  from  the  other 
side,  as  he  turned  about.  The  fop  was  somewhat  dis- 
turbed, while  Arline  and  Thaddeus  burst  out  laughing 
at  him.  The  Queen,  watching  this  episode,  recognized  in 
Florestein  the  chap  to  whom  she  had  restored  the  trin- 
kets. She  herself  had  the  medallion,  and  instantly  a  ma- 
licious thought  occurred  to  her:  it  was  her  opportunity  to 
revenge  herself  on  Arline  for  loving  Thaddeus.  She  ap- 
proached Arline,  and  held  out  the  medallion. 

"You  should  be  rewarded,  my  girl,  for  giving  this  pre- 
sumptuous fellow  a  lesson.  Take  this  from  me,  and 
think  of  it  as  my  wedding  gift,"  and  she  left  the  medal- 
lion with  Arline.  The  girl  was  very  grateful  and  kissed 
the  Queen's  hand. 

"Now  we  must  go!  call  the  band  together,"  she  com- 
manded, leading  the  way;  and  slowly  they  all  assembled 
and  prepared  to  go.  Thaddeus  hung  the  medallion  on 
Arline's  neck  and,  with  her,  came  last  of  the  band.  Now 
Florestein,  smarting  under  their  blows,  saw  the  medal- 
lion on  Arline's  neck  and  at  once  drew  the  attention 
of  his  friends  to  it.    They  recognized  it  as  his.    He  then 


The  BoJiemian  Girl  23 

went  up  to  Thaddeus  and  Arline  and  pointed  to  the 
trinket. 

"You  may  stay  awhile,  my  girl.  How  about  that 
medallion  of  mine  which  you  have  on  your  neck?  My 
friends  here  recognize  it!" 

"The  Queen  has  given  it  to  me  —  only  now/'  she  re- 
plied in  amazement;  but  as  she  looked  about  she  saw 
that  the  Queen  was  gone,  and  Devilshoof,  who  had  wit- 
nessed all,  was  then  sneaking  off. 

"That  is  a  good  story.  We  have  all  heard  that  sort 
of  thing  before.  Come  along,"  and  he  would  have  ar- 
rested her  instantly,  but  Thaddeus  sprang  forward  and 
took  a  hand  m  the  matter.  When  Florestein  saw  the 
affair  had  grown  serious  he  ran  into  the  Hall  of  Justice, 
and  returned  with  a  guard  who  arrested  the  girl.  Arline, 
in  tears,  declared  her  innocence,  but  everything  appeared 
against  her.  She  had  only  Thaddeus  to  stand  by  her, 
but  at  this  crisis  the  other  gipsies  ran  back,  hearing  of 
the  row,  and  tried  to  rescue  her.  There  Thaddeus, 
too,  was  seized,  and  a  free  fight  took  place  in  which 
the  gipsies  were  driven  off;  finally,  Ariine,  left  alone, 
was  marched  into  the  Hall  of  Justice.  The  Queen  then 
returned,  and  stood  unseen,  enjoying  the  young  giri's 
peril,  while  Thaddeus  threatened  everybody  concerned. 

Now  before  the  guards  reached  the  Count  Arnheim's 
apartment  where  Ariine  was  to  be  tried,  the  Count  had 
been  sitting  before  a  portrait  of  his  lost  daughter,  which 
pictured  her  as  she  was  twelve  years  before.  He  had 
never  known  a  happy  hour  since  her  loss.  As  he  looked 
at  her  portrait  he  sang: 


.  * ^ * y    I   f    # -fg         I     1 


The  heart  bow'd  down  by  weight  of  woe.       To, 


84 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


t  r  ^Oa^ 


-.^ 


^ 


^ 


^^ 


weak  —  est        hope     will—       cling,  To 

"=  3  ^ 

-*^ 


W 


tho't     and     im  -  pulse       while  they  flow,       That 


/5 


^^ 


r^ 


2¥ 


can       no     com fort    bring,  that  can,      that  — 


those     ex  —  dt  —  ing         scenes    will     blend,     O'er 


^^^-^ 


-^ ^ « ^ 


ftfcfc 


-^':r± 


iyr-r 


E^^ 


pleas-ure's  path — way  thrown;   But  mem'ry    is     the 
A ^ f:  ^ 


_to^ 


on  —  ly       friend,      That    grief  can    call  its 

It.  ■     .    r  •     r     ^       ^        ^ 


4^-^' 


^ 


sg? 


-U — L 


own,    That     grief    can  call      its      own, That 


The  Bohemian  Girl  25 


The  mind  will  in  its  worst  despair, 
■     Still  ponder  o'er  the  past, 
\)n  moments  of  delight  that  were 

Too  beautiful  to  last. 
To  long  departed  years  extend 

Its  visions  with  them  flown; 
For  mem'ry  is  the  only  friend 

That  grief  can  call  its  own. 

Thus,  while  the  old  Count's  mind  was  lingering  sadly 
over  the  past,  calling  up  visions  of  the  hopes  that  had 
fled  with  his  daughter,  she  was  being  brought  to  him 
charged  with  a  crime  of  which  she  was  innocent.  Soon 
the  Count  heard  a  noise  near  his  apartment,  and  the  cap- 
tain of  the  guard  burst  in  to  tell  him  a  robbery  had  been 
committed  in  the  square.  No  sooner  had  Arnheim  seated 
himself  in  his  official  place  than  the  people  hustled  in 
Ariine.  Florestein  was  in  the  midst  of  the  mob;  going  at 
once  to  his  uncle  he  cried: 

"Your  lordship,  it  is  I  who  have  been  robbed!" 
''Ah:    some    more    of     your     trouble-making.     Why 
are  you  forcxcr  Ijringing  the  family  name  into  some  ill- 
sounding  affair?" 

"liut,  uncle,  it  is  true  that  I  am  a  victim.  There  is 
the  very  girl  who  robbed  me!"  he  cried,  pointing  to 
Ariine.     The  Count  looked  pityingly  at  her. 

a-^j^^t  — the  pretty  girl  I  saw  in  the  square?  So 
young  and  innocent  a  face!" 

"However  that  may  be,  she  has  stolen  my  medallion: 
we  found  it  upon  her!" 

'•Can  this  be  true,  my  child?"  the  Count  asked  gently. 


a6  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"No,  your  lordship.  I  have  done  nothing  wrong;  but 
alas!  there  is  no  one  to  help  me." 

At  that  the  Count  became  more  distressed.  The 
thought  of  his  own  child  returned  to  him.  She  might 
be  somewhere  as  hardly  pressed  and  as  helpless  as  this 
young  gipsy  girl. 

"We  can  prove  her  guilty,"  Florestein  persisted. 

"Tell  me  your  story,  my  child.  I  shall  try  to  do  you 
justice,"  the  Count  urged,  looking  kindly  at  Arline. 

"The  Queen  of  oiu-  tribe  gave  me  that  medallion.    I 

do  not  know  how  she  possessed  herself  of  it,  imless " 

Arline  suddenly  remembered  the  scene  at  her  wedding, 
and  half  guessed  the  truth.  "Your  lordship,  I  cannot 
prove  it,  but  I  believe  she  gave  me  a  medallion  which  she 
knew  to  be  stolen,  in  order  to  revenge  herself  upon  me 
for  giving  her  displeasure  last  night!"  The  old  Count 
gazed  thoughtfully  at  her.  He  believed  her  story:  she 
looked  truthful,  and  her  tone  was  honest. 

"I  believe  you,"  he  answered,  at  last,  "yet  since  you 
cannot  prove  this,  I  have  no  alternative  but  to  hand  you 
over  to  justice." 

"Then,  sir,  I  can  deliver  myself!"  she  cried,  drawing 
a  dagger,  and  was  about  to  plimge  it  into  her  heart 
when  the  horrified  Count  sprung  forward  and  stopped  her. 
As  he  seized  her  arm,  he  glanced  at  the  scar  upon  it:  then 
started  and  looked  closely  at  her  face.  Again  the  face 
of  his  lost  daughter  was  before  him.  He  looked  at  the 
painting  of  the  little  girl  upon  the  wall,  and  again  at 
Arline.    They  were  so  like  that  he  could  doubt  no  longer. 

"Tell  me  —  how  did  you  come  by  that  scar  upon  your 
ann  —  speak  the  truth,  because  my  very  life  hangs  upon 
it,  my  child."  By  this  time  the  whole  mob  had  gathered 
excitedly  about  the  girl  and  the  old  judge. 


The  Bohemian  Girl  27 

"  When  I  was  six  years  old  a  wild  deer  wounded  me  — " 
the  Count  nearly  fainted  with  hope  — "I  was  saved 
and—"  at  this  moment,  Thaddeus,  having  shaken  off  his 
guard,  rushed  in  to  help  Arline.  She  cried  out  happily 
and  pointed  to  him.  "  It  was  he  who  saved  my  life,"  she 
said.  "It  was  Thaddeus!"  The  Count  recognized  the 
man  who  had  refused  to  drink  the  health  of  the  Emperor 
at  the  banquet  years  before  I  Clearly  it  was  his  own 
child  who  had  been  brought  before  him! 

With  a  joyous  cry  he  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  but  she 
did  not  know  the  meaning  of  his  joy  or  of  the  excitement, 
and,  frightened  and  bewildered,  she  ran  to  Thaddeus. 
Thaddeus  pointed  sadly  to  the  Count: 

"It  is  thy  father,  Arline.  It  is  true,"  and  he  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands.  He  must  now  give  her  up.  Since 
she  had  found  a  noble  father  he  could  not  hope  to  be 
near  her  again,  and  while  he  stood  with  his  face  in  his 
hands,  and  Arline  was  again  in  the  arms  of  the  Count, 
Devilshoof  made  his  way  in  through  the  crowd,  and  tried 
to  drag  Thaddeus  away.  He  loved  his  comrade  of  twelve 
years,  and  he  saw  that  harm  might  come  to  him  in  the 
new  situation, 

ACT   III 

After  leaving  the  Hall  of  Justice,  Arline  returned 
with  her  father  to  the  home  of  her  childhood,  for  her 
dream  had  come  true:  she  "dwelt  in  marble  halls,  with 
vassals  and  serfs  at  her  side."  Yet  she  was  far  from 
happy:  Thaddeus  had  left  the  hall  with  Devilshoof  on 
the  day  of  Arline's  arrest,  and  she  had  not  seen  him  since. 
Gorgeously  dressed  in  a  ball  gown,  she  was  in  a  beautiful 
rooj^i  in  her  father's  house.     Her    father   entered   with 


28  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Florestein  and  begged  her  to  think  kindly  of  her  silly, 
foppish  cousin. 

"You  have  every  reason  to  be  resentful  toward  Flore- 
stein," he  said,  "but  if  you  can  think  kindly  of  him  for 
my  sake  it  would  make  me  very  happy.  I  have  always 
intended  you  to  marry  each  other." 

At  that  Arline  was  very  wretched;  and  after  a  moment 
she  said:  "Father,  I  should  like  to  please  you,  but  I  can- 
not think  affectionately  of  my  cousin,"  and  before  the 
argument  could  be  carried  further,  a  servant  entered  to 
tell  them  that  the  palace  was  filling  with  guests,  and 
that  the  Count  was  needed.  Florestein  and  the  Count 
then  went  to  meet  the  company,  leaving  Arline  alone  to 
recover  her  self-possession.  She  became  very  sad  for 
she  was  thinking  of  Thaddeus  and  of  the  days  she  had 
spent  wandering  over  the  world  with  him  and  the  gipsies. 
Suddenly  she  went  to  a  cabinet,  took  her  gipsy  dress  from 
it,  and  looked  at  it,  the  tears  streaming  from  her  eyes. 
While  she  was  lost  in  the  memories  of  other  days.  Devils- 
hoof  jumped  in  at  the  window  and  Arline  nearly  screamed 
upon  seeing  him  so  suddenly. 

"Don't  scream!  Don't  be  frightened,"  he  said  quick- 
ly. "I  have  come  to  say  how  we  all  miss  you,  and  to 
beg  you  to  come  back  to  the  tribe.  I  have  brought 
with  me  one  whose  powers  of  persuasion  are  greater  than 
mine,"  he  added,  and  instantly  Thaddeus  appeared  at 
the  window,  while  Arline,  unable  to  restrain  herself, 
rushed  into  his  arms. 

"Ah,  I  feared  you  would  forget  me  in  the  midst  of  so 
much  luxury  and  wealth,"  he  said  happily. 

"Oh,  Thaddeus,  did  I  not  also  dream  —  which  pleased 
me  most  —  that  you  loved  me  still  the  same?"  she  re- 
minded him. 


The  Bohemian  Girl 


a9 


"I  came  only  to  entreat  you  sometimes  to  think  of  me," 
he  now  said  with  a  lighter  heart,"  and  also  I  came  to  tell 
you  — "  he  paused,  kissed  her,  and  then  sang: 


^ 


PP. 


^ 


When    oth — er 


lips  and 


'j^rQ-^rrp^ 


^ 


oth— er  hearts  Their  tales  of    love    shall  tell,        In 


^ 


i|t^^  ^  r  T 


^f=^^r^^ 


language        whose        ex cess      imparts      The 


^ 


^ 


d^ 


m 


pow'r         they    feel  so      well: 


There 


may,    per — haps,  in 


scene,  Some 


^3 


=s^ 


col- 


-lec- 


-tion — 


be 


Of 


^ 


^ 


days    that     have       as  hap— py     been,        And 


30 


^ 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


m 


^ 


^ 


you'll     re ^mem ber      me,- 


-and  you'll 


^ 


X     ■ 


S 


mem — ber,  You'll   re — mem — ber     me. 


When  coldness  or  deceit  shall  slight 

The  beauty  now  they  prize, 
And  deem  it  but  a  faded  light 

Which  beams  within  your  eyes; 
When  hollow  hearts  shall  wear  a  mask 

'TwiU  break  your  own  to  see: 
In  such  a  moment  I  but  ask 

That  you'U  remember  me. 

The  song  only  added  to  Arline's  distress.  She  could 
not  let  Thaddeus  go. 

"You  must  never  leave  me,  Thaddeus,"  she  cried. 

"Then  will  you  fly  with  me?"  he  begged. 

"It  would  kill  my  poor  father;  he  has  only  now  found 
me.  I  would  go  if  it  were  not  for  love  of  him,  but  how 
can  I  leave  him?"  And  while  the  lovers  were  in  this 
unhappy  coil  Devilshoof,  who  had  been  watching  at  the 
window  to  warn  them  if  any  one  was  coming,  called  out: 

"Your  doom  is  sealed  in  another  moment!  You  must 
decide:  people  are  coming.  There  is  no  escape  for  you, 
Thaddeus." 

"Come  into  this  cabinet,"  Arline  cried  in  alarm.  "No 
one  can  find  you  there!  and  you,  Devilshoof,  jump  out 
of  the  window."  No  sooner  said  than  done !  Out  Devils- 
hoof jumped,  while  Thaddeus  got  into  the  cabinet.  The 
great  doors  were  thrown  open  and  the  company  streamed 
in  to  congratulate  Arline  on  being  restored  to  her  father. 


The  Bohemian  Girl  31 

The  old  Count  then  took  Arline  by  the  hand  and  present- 
ed her  to  the  company,  while  Florestein,  as  the  suitor 
who  expected  to  be  given  her  hand  in  marriage,  stood 
beside  her,  smUing  and  looking  the  coxcomb.  Every- 
body then  sang  a  gay  welcome,  and  Florestein,  who 
seemed  born  only  to  do  that  which  was  annoying  to  other 
people,  picked  up  the  forgotten  gipsy  dress,  declaring 
that  it  was  not  suitable  to  such  a  moment,  and  that  he 
would  place  it  in  the  cabinet. 

That  was  the  worst  possible  thing  he  could  do,  and 
Arline  watched  him  with  horror.  If  he  should  go  to  the 
cabinet,  as  she  was  now  certain  he  would,  he  could  not 
possibly  help  finding  Thaddeus.  She  watched  with 
excitement  every  moment;  but  in  the  midst  of  her  fears 
there  was  a  great  noise  without,  and  the  gipsy  Queen 
forced  her  way  in,  to  the  amazement  of  the  company. 
She  went  at  once  to  the  old  Count,  who  it  seemed  was 
never  to  have  done  with  surprises. 

"Who  art  thou,  intruder?"  he  asked  angrily.  Upon 
this  the  Queen  lifted  her  veil,  which  till  then  had  con- 
cealed her  face. 

"Behold  me!"  she  cried,  very  dramatically,  "heed  my 
warning  voice!  WaU  and  not  rejoice!"  A  nice  sort  of 
caution  to  be  injected  into  a  merrymaking.  "  The  foe 
to  thy  rest,  is  the  one  you  love  best.  Think  not  my 
warning  wild,  'tis  thy  refound  child.  She  loves  a  youth 
of  the  tribe  I  sway,  and  braves  the  world's  reproof.  List 
to  the  words  I  say,  he  is  now  beneath  thy  roof!"  This 
was  quite  enough  to  drive  the  entire  company  into 
hysterics. 
.^"Base  wretch,"  the  Count  cried,  "thou  liest!" 

"Thy  faith  I  begrudge,  open  that  door  and  thyself  be 
the   judge,"   she   screamed,    quite   beside    herself    with 


32  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

anger.  Of  course  everybody  looked  toward  the  door  of 
the  cabinet,  and  finally  the  Count  opened  it,  and  there 
stood  Thaddeus. 

He  staggered  back,  the  Queen  was  delighted,  but  every- 
body else  was  frightened  half  to  death. 

Everybody  concerned  seemed  then  to  be  in  the  worst 
possible  way.  Arline  determined  to  stand  by  Thaddeus, 
and  she  was  quite  appalled  at  the  wickedness  of  the  Queen. 

"Leave  the  place  instantly,"  the  Count  roared  to 
Thaddeus. 

"I  go,  Arline,"  Thaddeus  answered  sorrowfully. 

"Never!  —  unless  I  go  with  thee,"  she  declared,  quite 
overcome  by  the  situation.  "Father,  I  love  thee,  but  I 
cannot  give  up  Thaddeus,"  she  protested  sorrowfully  to 
the  Count.  Then  the  Count  drew  his  sword  and  rushed 
between  them. 

"Go!"  he  cried  again  to  Thaddeus,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  Queen  urged  him  to  go  with  her.  Then  Arline 
begged  to  be  left  alone  with  her  father  that  she  might 
have  a  private  word  with  him.  Everybody  withdrew 
except  Thaddeus,  wondering  what  next,  and  how  it  would 
all  turn  out. 

"Father,"  Arline  pleaded  when  they  were  alone,  "I  am 
at  your  feet.  If  you  love  me  you  will  listen.  It  was 
Thaddeus  who  restored  me  to  you;  who  has  guarded  me 
from  harm  for  twelve  years.  I  cannot  give  him  up,  and 
to  send  him  away  is  unworthy  of  you."  The  Count  made 
a  despairing  gesture  of  dismissal  to  Thaddeus. 

"But,  father,  we  are  already  united,"  she  urged,  refer- 
ring to  the  gipsy  marriage.  At  that  the  Count  was  quite 
horrified. 

"  United?  —  to  a  strolling  fellow  like  this?  "  This  was 
more  than  Thaddeus  could  stand,  knowing  as  he  did  that 


The  Bohemian  Girl  33 

he  was  every  bit  as  good  as  the  Count  —  being  a  Polish 
noble.  True,  if  he  revealed  himself,  he  might  have  to 
pay  for  it  with  his  life,  because  he  was  still  reckoned  at 
large  as  the  enemy  of  the  Emperor,  but  even  so,  he 
decided  to  tell  the  truth  about  himself  for  Arline's 
sake. 

"Listen,"  he  cried,  stepping  nearer  to  the  Coimt.  "I 
am  not  what  you  think  me.  Let  this  prove  to  you  my 
birth,"  and  he  took  the  old  commission  from  his  pocket 
where  he  had  carried  it  for  years,  and  handed  it  to  the 
Count.  "This  will  prove  to  thee,  though  I  am  an  exile, 
that  I  am  a  noble  like  thyself;  and  my  birth  does  not 
separate  me  from  thy  daughter."  The  Count  read  the 
paper  tremblingly  and  then  looked  long  at  Thaddeus. 
Tears  came  to  his  eyes. 

''The  storms  of  a  nation's  strife  should  never  part  true 
lovers,"  he  said  softly,  at  last:  "Thy  hand!"  —  and 
taking  Thaddeus's  hand  he  placed  it  tenderly  in  that  of 
Arline.  As  they  stood  thus  united  and  happy,  the  Queen 
appeared  at  the  window,  pointing  him  out  to  a  gipsy  be- 
side her.  The  gipsy  was  about  to  fire  upon  Thaddeus 
at  the  Queen's  command,  when  Devilshoof  knocked  up 
the  gipsy's  arm,  and  the  bullet  meant  for  the  lover  killed 
the  revengeful  Queen. 

"Guard  every  portal — summon  all  the  guests!"  the 
Count  cried.  "Suspend  all  festivities,"  at  which  the  mu- 
sic which  had  been  heard  in  the  distant  salon  ceased,  and 
the  guests  began  to  assemble.  Arline  rushed  to  the  arms 
of  Thaddeus.  The  Count  explained  all  that  had  occurred, 
the  danger  Thaddeus  had  just  been  in,  that  he  had  been 
given  the  Count's  daughter,  and  that  congratulations 
were  in  order. 

As    you    may    believe,    after    so    much    fright    and 


34  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

danger,  everybody  was  overjoyed  to  find  that  all  was 
well  —  everybody  but  Florestein,  and  he  was  cer- 
tain to  be  satisfied  presently  when  the  banquet  be- 
gan, and  he  got  some  especially  fine  tit-bit  on  his  own 
plate! 


BEETHOVEN 

TPHE  most  complete,  at  the  same  time  picturesque, 
story  of  Beethoven  and  his  "Fidelio"  is  told  in 
"Musical  Sketches,"  by  Elise  Polko,  with  all  the  sentimen- 
tality that  a  German  writer  can  command.  Whole  para- 
graphs might  be  lifted  from  that  book  and  included  in 
this  sketch,  but  the  substance  of  the  story  shall  be  told 
in  a  somewhat  inferior  way. 

"Leonora"  (Fidelio)  was  composed  some  time  before 
it  was  produced.  Ludwig  van  Beethoven  had  been 
urged  again  and  again  by  his  friends  to  put  the  opera 
before  the  public,  but  he  always  refused. 

"It  shall  never  be  produced  till  I  find  the  woman  in 
whose  powers  I  have  absolute  confidence  to  sing  'Leo- 
nora. '  She  need  not  be  beautiful,  change  her  costume  ten 
times,  nor  break  her  throat  with  roulades:  but  she  must 
have  one  thing  besides  her  voice."  He  would  not  dis- 
close what  special  quality  he  demanded;  and  when  his 
friends  persisted  in  urging  the  production  of  his  first, 
last,  and  only  opera,  Beethoven  went  into  a  great  rage 
and  declared  if  the  subject  were  ever  mentioned  again, 
he  would  burn  the  manuscript.  At  one  time  friends 
begged  him  to  hear  a  new  prima  donna,  Wilhelmina 
Schroder,  the  daughter  of  a  great  actress,  believing  that 
in  her  he  would  find  his  "Leonora." 

This  enraged  him  still  more.  The  idea  of  entrusting 
his  beloved  composition  to  a  girl  no  more  than  sixteen 
years  old! 

35 


36  Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 

His  appearance  at  that  time  is  thus  described; 

"At  the  same  hour  every  afternoon  a  tall  man  walked 
alone  on  the  so-called  Wasserglacis  (Vienna).  Every 
one  reverentially  avoided  him.  Neither  heat  nor  cold 
made  him  hasten  his  steps;  no  passer-by  arrested  his 
eye;  he  strode  slowly,  firmly  and  proudly  along,  with 
glance  bent  downward,  and  with  hands  clasped  behind 
his  back.  You  felt  that  he  was  some  extraordinary  be- 
ing, and  that  the  might  of  genius  encircled  this  majestic 
head  with  its  glory.  Gray  hair  grew  thickly  around  his 
magnificent  brow,  but  he  noticed  not  the  spring  breeze 
that  played  sportively  among  it  and  pushed  it  in  his  eyes. 
Every  child  knew: 'that  is  Ludwig  van  Beethoven,  who 
has  composed  such  wondrously  beautiful  music.'" 

One  day,  during  one  of  these  outings  a  fearful  storm 
arose,  and  he  noticed  a  beautiful  young  woman,  whom  he 
had  frequently  seen  in  his  walks,  frightened  but  stand- 
ing still  without  protection  from  the  weather.  She 
stared  at  him  with  such  peculiar  devotion  and  entreaty 
that  he  stopped  and  asked  her  what  she  did  there  in  the 
storm. 

She  had  the  appearance  of  a  child,  and  great  simplicity 
of  manner.  She  told  him  she  waited  to  see  him.  He, 
being  surprised  at  this,  questioned  her,  and  she  declared 
she  was  Wilhelmina  Schroder,  who  longed  for  nothing  but 
to  sing  his  Leonora,  of  which  all  Vienna  had  heard.  He 
took  her  to  his  home,  she  sang  the  part  for  him,  and  at 
once  he  accepted  her. 

It  was  she  who  first  sang  "Fidelio,"  and  she  who  had 
the  "quality"  that  Beethoven  demanded:  the  quality  of 
kindness.  It  is  said  that  her  face  was  instinct  with  gen- 
tleness and  her  voice  exquisitely  beautiful.  It  was  al- 
most the  last  thing  that  Beethoven  heard.     His  deaf- 


Fiddio 


37 


ness  was  already  upon  him,  but  he  heard  her  voice; 
heard  his  beloved  opera  sung,  and  was  so  much  over- 
come by  the  beauty  of  the  young  girl's  art  that  during 
the  performance  he  fainted. 

Of  all  temperamental  men,  Beethoven  was  doubtless 
the  most  so,  and  the  anecdotes  written  of  him  are  many. 
He  was  especially  irascible.  His  domestic  annoyances 
are  revealed  freely  in  his  diary:  "Nancy  is  too  unedu- 
cated for  a  housekeeper  —  indeed,  quite  a  beast."  "My 
precious  servants  were  occupied  from  seven  o'clock  till 
ten,  trying  to  light  a  fire."  "The  cook's  off  again  —  I 
shied  half  a  dozen  books  at  her  head."  "No  soup  to- 
day, no  beef,  no  eggs.  Got  something  from  the  inn  at 
last."  These  situations  are  amusing  to  read  about,  de- 
cades later,  but  doubtless  tragic  enough  at  the  time  to 
the  great  composer! 

That  in  financial  matters  Beethoven  was  quite  practi- 
cal was  illustrated  by  his  answer  to  the  Prussian  Ambas- 
sador at  Vienna,  who  offered  to  the  musician  the  choice 
of  the  glory  of  having  some  order  bestowed  upon  him  or 
fifty  ducats.     Beethoven  took  the  ducats. 

Beautiful  as  the  production  of  "Fidelio"  was,  it  did 
not  escape  criticism  from  an  eminent  source.  Cheru- 
bini  was  present  at  the  first  performance  at  the  Karn- 
thnerthor  Theatre  in  Vienna,  and  when  asked  how  he 
liked  the  overture  (Leonora  in  C)  he  replied: 

"To  be  honest,  I  must  confess  that  I  could  not  tell 
what  key  it  was  in  from  beginning  to  end." 

FIDELIO 

CHARACTERS   OF   THE   OPEKA 

Marcelline  (jailer's  daughter). 

Leonora  (under  name  of  fidelio). 

Florestan  (her  husband  and  a  state  prisoner). 


38  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Knew 

Jaquino  (porter  of  the  prison). 

Pizarro  (governor  of  the  prison). 

Hernando  (the  minister). 

Rocco  (the  jailer). 

Chorus  of  soldiers,  prisoners  and  people. 

Scene  is  laid  in  Spain. 

Composer:    Beethoven. 


ACT  I 

Marcelline,  the  jailer's  daughter,  had  been  tormented 
to  death  for  months  by  the  love-making  of  her  father's 
porter,  Jaquino.  In  short,  he  had  stopped  her  on  her 
way  to  church,  to  work,  to  rest,  at  all  times,  and  every 
time,  to  make  love  to  her,  and  finally  she  was  on  the  point 
of  consenting  to  marry  him,  if  only  to  get  rid  of  him. 

"Marcelline,  only    name    the  day,  and    I    vow    I'll 

never  make  love  to  you  again,"  said  the  soft  Jaquino. 

This  was  so  funny  that  Marcelline  thought  he  was  worth 

marrying  for  his  drollery;  but  just  as  she  was  about  to 

make  him  a  happy  man   by  saying   "yes,"  some  one 

knocked  upon  the  door,  and  with  a  laugh  she  drew  away 

from  him: 

Oh,  joy!  once  again  I  am  free; 

How  weary,  how  weary  his  love  makes  me. 

Quite  disheartened,  Jaquino  went  to  open  the  door. 

There  had  been  a  time  —  before  a  certain  stranger 
named  Fidelio  had  come  to  the  prison  —  when  Jaquino's 
absurd  love-making  pleased  Marcelline,  but  since  the 
coming  of  that  fine  youth  Fidelio,  she  had  thought  of  little 
but  him.  Now,  while  Jaquino  was  opening  the  door,  and 
she  watched  his  figtire  (which  was  not  at  all  fascinating), 
she  murmured  to  herself: 

"After  all,  how  perfectly  absurd  to  think   of   it  I    I 


Fiddio  39 

shall  never  marry  anybody  but  Fidelio.  He  is  quite  the 
most  enchanting  fellow  I  know."  At  that  moment 
Jaquino  returned. 

"What,  not  a  word  for  me?"  he  asked,  noting  her 
change  of  mood. 

"Well,  yes,  and  that  word  is  no,  no,  no!  So  go  away 
and  let  me  alone,"  she  answered  petulantly. 

Now  Fidelio  was  certainly  a  most  beautiful  youth, 
but  quite  different  from  any  Marcelline  had  ever  seen. 
Fidelio  observed,  with  a  good  deal  of  anxiety,  that  the 
jailer's  daughter  was  much  in  love  with  him,  and  there 
were  reasons  why  that  should  be  inconvenient. 

Fidelio,  instead  of  being  a  fine  youth,  was  a  most  ador- 
ing wife,  and  her  husband,  Florestan,  was  shut  up  in  that 
prison  for  an  offence  against  its  wicked  governor,  Pi- 
zarro.  He  had  been  placed  there  to  starve;  and  indeed 
his  wife  Leonora  (Fidelio)  had  been  told  that  he  was  al- 
ready dead.  She  had  applied,  as  a  youth,  for  work  in  the 
prison,  m  order  to  spy  out  the  truth;  to  learn  if  her  dear 
husband  were  dead  or  alive. 

There  was  both  good  and  bad  luck  in  the  devotion  of 
the  jailer's  daughter.  The  favourable  part  of  the  affair 
was  that  Leonora  was  able,  because  of  her  favouritism, 
to  find  out  much  about  the  prisoners;  but  on  the  other 
hand,  she  was  in  danger  of  discovery.  Although  the  sit- 
uation was  tragic,  there  was  considerable  of  a  joke  in 
Marcelline's  devotion  to  the  youth  Fidelio,  and  in  the 
consequent  jealousy  of  Jaquino. 

Love  of  money  was  Rocco's  (the  jailer)  besetting  sin. 
He  sang  of  his  love  with  great  feeling: 

Life  is  nothing  without  money, 

Anxious  cares  beset  it  round; 
Sad.  when  all  around  is  sunny, 

Feels  the  man  whom  none  hath  found. 


40  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

But  when  to  thy  keeping  the  treasure  hath  rolled, 

Blind  fortune  thou  mayest  defy,  then; 
Both  love  and  power  their  secrets  unfold, 

And  will  to  thy  wishes  comply,  then. 

Rocco  was  also  a  man  of  heart;  and  since  hiring  Fide- 
lio  (Leonora)  he  had  really  become  very  fond  of  the  young 
man.  When  he  observed  the  attachment  between 
Fidelio  and  Marcelline,  he  was  inclined  to  favour  it. 

Don  Pizarro  had  long  been  the  bitterest  enemy  of  Don 
Florestan,  Leonora's  husband,  because  that  noble  had 
learned  of  his  atrocities  and  had  determined  to  depose 
him  as  governor  of  the  fortress  prison. 

Hence,  when  Pizarro  got  Florestan  in  his  clutches,  he 
treated  him  with  unimaginable  cruelties,  and  falsely 
reported  that  he  was  dead. 

Now  in  the  prison  there  had  lately  been  much  hope 
and  rejoicing  because  it  was  rumoured  that  Fernando, 
the  great  Minister  of  State,  was  about  to  pay  a  visit 
of  investigation.  This  promised  a  change  for  the  better 
in  the  condition  of  the  prisoners.  But  no  one  knew  bet- 
ter than  Don  Pizarro  that  it  would  mean  ruin  to  himself  if 
Fernando  found  Don  Florestan  in  a  dungeon.  The  two 
men  were  dear  friends,  and  so  cruelly  treated  had  Flore- 
stan been  that  Pizarro  could  never  hope  for  clemency. 
Hence,  he  called  Rocco,  and  told  him  that  Florestan 
must  be  killed  at  once,  before  the  arrival  of  Fernando. 

Rocco  refused  point  blank  to  do  the  horrid  deed;  but 
as  a  dependent  he  could  not  control  matters,  and  hence 
he  had  to  consent  to  dig  the  grave,  with  the  understand- 
ing that  Pizarro,  himself,  should  do  the  killing. 

Thus  far,  Fidelio  had  been  able  to  find  out  nothing 
about  her  beloved  husband,  but  she  had  become  more  and 
more  of  a  favourite  with  the  unfortunate  old  jailer,  and 


Fidelia  41 

was  permitted  to  go  about  with  a  certain  amount  of 
freedom. 

Upon  the  day  when  Pizarro  had  directed  Rocco  to 
kill  a  prisoner  in  a  certain  dungeon,  she  overheard  a 
good  deal  of  the  plot,  and  she  began  to  fear  it  might  be  her 
husband. 

She  went  at  once  to  Rocco: 

"Rocco,  I  have  seen  very  little  of  the  prison.  May  I 
not  go  into  the  dungeon  and  look  about?" 

"Oh,  it  would  never  be  allowed,"  Rocco  declared. 
"Pizarro  is  a  stern  and  cruel  governor,  and  if  I  should  do 
the  least  thing  he  did  not  command,  it  would  go  hard 
with  me.  I  should  not  dare  let  you  do  that,"  he  said, 
much  troubled  with  the  deed  that  was  in  hand. 

"But  wilt  thou  not  ask  him,  Rocco?"  Fidelio  en- 
treated so  determinedly  that  Rocco  half  promised. 

"Fidelio,  I  will  tell  thee.  I  have  a  bad  job  to  do.  It 
is  to  dig  a  grave  in  one  of  the  dungeons."  Fidelio  could 
hardly  conceal  her  horror  and  despair.  Her  suspicions 
were  confirmed.  "There  is  an  old  well,  covered  by  a 
stone,  down  there,  far  underground,  and  if  I  lift  the  stone 
that  covers  it,  that  will  do  for  the  grave.  I  will  ask  Pi- 
zarro if  1  may  have  thee  to  help  me.  If  he  consents,  it 
will  be  thy  chance  to  see  the  dungeons,  but  if  not,  I  shall 
have  done  all  I  can  about  it."  So  he  went  away  to  dis- 
cuss the  matter  with  Pizarro,  while  Fidelio  waited  be- 
tween hope  and  despair. 

Meantime,  Pizarro  was  gloating  over  his  triumph. 
Soon  his  revenge  would  be  complete,  and  he  sang  of  the 
matter  in  a  most  savage  fashion: 

Ha!  what  a  da_v  is  this, 

My  vengeance  shall  be  sated. 
Thou  Ireadcsl.  on  an  abyss! 

For  now  ihy  doom  is  fated. 


42  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

The  words  mean  little,  but  Beethoven's  music  to  them 
means  much: 

Remember,  that  once  in  the  dust  I  trembled, 
'Mid  mocking  fiends  assembled; 
Beneath  thy  conquering  steeL 

But  Fortune's  wheel  is  turning, 

In  torments  thou  art  burning, 

The  victim  of  my  hate. 

The  guards  told  one  another  that  they  had  better  be 
about  their  business,  as  some  great  affair  seemed  afoot. 

Rocco  entered  again. 

"I  do  not  see  the  need  for  this  killing,"  he  urged. 
"The  man  is  nearly  dead  as  it  is.  He  cannot  last  long; 
but  at  least,  if  I  must  dig  the  grave,  I  shall  need  help.  I 
have  a  youth  in  my  service  who  is  to  marry  my  daughter 
—  thus  I  can  coimt  upon  his  faithfulness;  and  I  had  bet- 
ter be  permitted  to  take  him  into  the  dungeon  with  me, 
if  I  am  to  do  the  work.  I  am  an  old  man,  and  not  so 
strong  as  I  used  to  be." 

"Very  well,  very  well,"  Pizarro  replied.  "But  see 
to  the  business.  There  is  no  time  to  lose."  And 
going  back  to  Fidelio,  Rocco  told  her  the  good  news: 
that  Pizarro  had  consented.  Then  she  sang  joyfully 
of  it: 


^ 


f 


■V-^ 


Oh  '    Hope,    thou  wilt  not  let    the 


■s4» — f^^ ^ — N ■■  r*1 — ! 


,     »      r 


star  of  sorrowing  love be  dimm'd  for 


FideHo 


43 


hlA 


^ 


:f=3t 


M 


iA 


verl 


Ob     come,         sweet 


fcztfc 


iJ  ^  J'  ^'T-t 


v* — I 


Hope,     show  me   the        goal,  However,  how- 


'%h  * 


-{  ^^  ^'^■\^t    r  'g    (t 


far 


for — sake      it      will- 


4^'  iJ'  j>'  j!  J'  ;■  Jm  f  r=^ 


ne ver,  for — sake   it    will    I        nev- 


-er,    forsake  it 


will  ne- 


-ver,  etc. 


"But,  Rocco,  instead  of  digging  a  grave  for  the  poor 
man,  to  whom  we  go,  couldst  thou  not  set  him  free?"  she 
begged. 

"  Not  I,  my  boy.  It  would  be  as  much  as  my  life  was 
worth.  I  have  not  been  permitted  even  to  give  him  food. 
He  is  nearly  dead  from  starvation  already.  Try  to  think 
as  little  as  you  can  of  the  horrors  of  this  place.  It  is  a 
welcome  release  for  the  poor  fellow." 


44 


Operas  Every  Child  Shcndd  Know 


•  "But  to  have  a  father-in-law  who  has  committed  a 
/murder,"  Fidelio  shuddered,  trying  to  prevail  upon 
Rocco  by  this  appeal.    But  he  sang: 


m^ 


vr^T 


vn^ 


t^ 


My    good    lad,     thou    need'st  not  fear,       Of 


\&^  r  i-1 1'  g  ^  ^ 

^— r  ^ 

kill— ing       of       kill— ing 

him 

I    shall    be    clear 

Yes, 

fm\'  +*                                       1 

(^•J?   1 

1                ^     m        m        m 

\_^                                         ' 

i^ -y. ^,^-1 

g 


yes,        I        shall       be    clear,  My  lord   him — self, — 

J?: 


-• — I- 


P=F3 


I 


W^ 


r — 1= 


r— ^--- 


my     lord   him— self    will    do       the   deed 

"Nay,  do  not  worry  —  you'll  have  no  murderer  for  a 
father-in-law.  Our  only  business  is  to  dig  the  man's 
grave." 

In  spite  of  herself  Leonora  wept. 

"Come,  come.  This  is  too  hard  for  thee,  gentle  boy. 
I'll  manage  the  business  alone." 

"Oh,  no!  No!  I  must  go.  Indeed  I  am  not  afraid. 
I  must  go  with  thee,"  she  cried.  While  she  was  thus  dis- 
tracted, in  rushed  Marcelline  and  Jaquino. 

"Oh,  father!  Don  Pizarro  is  frantic  with  rage.  You 
have  given  the  prisoners  a  little  light  and  air,  and  he  is 
raging  about  the  prison  because  of  this.  What  shall  we 
do?"    Rocco  thought  a  moment. 

"Do  nothing!  He  is  a  hard  man,  I  — "  At  that  mo- 
ment Pizarro  came  in. 


Fidelia 


45 


"What  do  you  mean  by  this?  Am  I  governing  this 
prison  or  are  you?  " 

"Don  Pizarro,"  Rocco  spoke  calmly.  "It  is  the  King's 
birthday,  and  I  thought  it  might  be  politic  for  you  to 
give  the  prisoners  a  little  liberty,  especially  as  the 
Minister  was  coming.  It  will  look  well  to  him."  At 
that  Pizarro  was  somewhat  appeased,  but  nevertheless 
he  ordered  the  men  back  to  their  cells.  It  was  a  mourn- 
ful procession,  back  to  dungeon  darkness.  As  they  went 
they  sang: 


Allegretto  vivace. 


^ 


f) 


Fare — well, 


thou — warm 


and 


F#s*=^ 

— # • — 

-^ — r 

* — 1 

_,_ 

-— t— 

— \ — - 

l#      ■ 

>     1 

^ 

=p= 

— #-j— 

0 

sxm— ny  beam,  How      soon   thy      303^3       have 


s 


X 


-^s-* 


fa— ded,        How  soon  thy     joys    have  fa— dedl 


WTiile  they  were  singing,  Rocco  once  more  tried  to 
soften  Pizarro's  heart. 

"Wilt  thou  not  let  the  condemned  prisoner  live  another 
day,  your  highness?"  The  request  enraged  Pizarro  still 
more. 

"Enough!  Now  have  done  with  your  whimpering. 
Take  that  youth  of  thine  who  is  to  help,  and  be  about  the 
job.  Go!  and  let  me  hear  no  more."  With  that  awful 
voice  of  revenge  and  cruelty  in  her  ears,  the  unhappy 


46  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Leonora  followed  Rocco  to  the  dungeons,  to    dig    her 
husband's  grave. 

ACT  n 

Down  in  the  very  bowels  of  the  earth,  as  it  seemed  to 
Leonora,  was  Florestan's  dungeon.  There  he  sat,  mana- 
cled, despairing,  with  no  ray  of  light  to  cheer  him,  and 
his  thoughts  occupied  only  with  his  visions  of  the  beau- 
tiful home  he  had  known,  and  of  his  wife,  Leonora.  When 
Leonora  and  Rocco  entered  the  dungeon,  Florestan  had 
fallen,  half  sleeping,  half  dreaming  upon  the  floor 
of  his  cell,  and  Leonora  groped  her  way  fearfully  toward 
him,  believing  him  to  be  dead. 

" Oh,  the  awful  chill  of  this  vault,"  she  sobbed.  "Look! 
Is  the  man  dead,  already,  Rocco?"  Rocco  went  to  look 
at  the  prisoner. 

"No,  he  only  sleeps.  Come,  that  sunken  well  is  near, 
and  we  have  only  to  imcover  it  to  have  the  job  done.  It 
is  a  hard  thing  for  a  youth  like  thee.  Let  us  hurry." 
Rocco  began  searching  for  the  disused  well,  into  which  he 
meant  the  body  of  Florestan  to  be  dumped  after  the 
governor  had  killed  him. 

"Reach  me  that  pickaxe,"  he  directed  Fidelio.  "Are 
you  afraid?  " 

''No,  no,  I  feel  chilled  only." 

"Well,  make  haste  with  the  work,  my  boy,  and  it  will 
warm  you,"  Rocco  urged.  Then  while  he  worked  and 
urged  Fidelio  to  do  the  same,  she  furtively  watched  the 
prisoner  whose  features  she  could  not  see  in  the  gloom  of 
the  cell. 

"If  we  do  not  hurry,  the  governor  will  be  here.  Haste, 
haste!"  Rocco  cried. 


Fidelia 


47 


"Yes,  yes,"  she  answered,  nearly  fainting  with  grief 
and  horror. 

"Come,  come,  my  boy.  Help  me  lift  this  great  stone 
which  closes  the  mouth  of  the  well."  The  despairing 
Fidelio  lifted  with  all  her  poor  strength. 

"I'm  lifting,  I'm  lifting,"  she  sobbed,  and  she  tugged 
and  tugged,  because  she  dared  not  shirk  the  work.  Then 
the  stone  slowly  rolled  away.  She  was  still  uncertain  as 
to  the  identity  of  the  poor  wretch  who  was  so  soon  to  be 
put  out  of  existence.     She  peered  at  him  continually. 

"Oh,  whoever  thou  art,  I  will  save  thee.  I  will  save 
thee,"  she  thought.  "I  cannot  have  so  great  a  horror 
take  place.  I  must  save  him."  Still  she  peered  through 
the  darkness  at  the  hopeless  prisoner.  At  the  same  time 
her  grief  overwhelmed  her,  and  she  began  to  weep.  The 
prisoner  was  roused,  and  plaintively  thanked  the  strange 
youth  for  his  kindly  tears. 

"Oh,  whoever  this  poor  man  may  be,  let  me  give  him 
this  piece  of  bread,"  Fideho  begged,  turning  to  Rocco. 
(She  had  put  bread  into  her  doublet,  thinking  to  succour 
some  half-starved  wretch.) 

"It  is  my  business,  my  boy,  to  be  severe,"  he  said, 
frowning.  He  was  sorely  tried,  for  his  heart  was  kind 
and  yet  he  dared  not  show  pity.  But  she  pleaded  and 
pleaded,  and  finally  Rocco  nervously  agreed. 

"  Well,  well,  give  it,  boy.  Give  it.  He  will  never  taste 
food  again,"  and  again  the  prisoner  thanked  Fidelio 
through  the  darkness  of  his  cell.  When  he  spoke  she 
felt  a  strange  presentiment.  Suppose  this  should  be 
the  beloved  husband  whom  she  sought! 

"Oh,  gentle  youth!  That  I  might  repay  this  humane 
deed!"  the  prisoner  murmured,  too  weak  to  speak  loudly. 

"That  voice  —  it  is  strange  to  me,  yet  —  it  is  like 


48  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

some  remembered  voice,"  Fidelio  said  to  herself,  and  she 
clasped  her  hands  upon  her  heart,  because  it  seemed  to 
beat  so  loudly  that  Rocco  might  hear  it.  While  she 
wavered  between  hope  and  fear,  Don  Pizarro  entered 
the  dungeon.     He  had  come  at  last  for  his  revenge. 

"Now,  thou  dog,"  he  said  to  the  prisoner,  "prepare 
to  die.  But  before  you  die,  you  are  to  know  to  whom 
you  owe  the  deed."  At  that  he  threw  off  his  cloak  and 
showed  himself  to  be  Pizarro. 

"It  is  Pizarro  whom  thou  hast  insulted.  It  is  he  who 
shall  kill  thee." 

"Do  not  think  I  fear  a  murderer,"  Florestan  replied, 
with  what  heroism  his  weakness  would  permit.  At  that 
Pizarro  made  a  lunge  at  him  with  the  knife,  but  Fidelio 
threw  herself  in  front  of  him,  suddenly  recognizing  him 
as  he  spoke  to  Pizarro. 

"Thou  shalt  not  kill  him,  unless  thou  kill  his  wife  as 
well,"  she  screamed.  Rocco,  Florestan  and  Pizarro  all 
cried  out  in  amazement. 

"Wife!"  Florestan  clasped  her  weakly  to  his  heart. 
Pizarro  rushed  at  Fidelio,  becoming  frantic  with  rage. 
He  hurled  her  away  and  shouted: 

"No  woman  shall  frighten  me!  Away  with  ye!  The 
man  shall  die."  Instantly,  Fidelio  drew  a  pistol  and 
pointed  it  at  the  murderer. 

"If  he  is  to  die,  you  shall  die  also,"  she  cried,  where- 
upon Rocco  shouted  in  fright,  since  it  was  a  dreadful 
thing  to  try  conclusions  with  the  governor  of  the  prison. 
Pizarro  himself  drew  back  with  fear. 

Then  a  fanfare  of  trumpets  was  heard,  announcing 
the  arrival  of  Fernando,  the  Minister. 

"Hark!"  Pizarro  cried.  "I  am  undone!  It  is  Fer- 
nando! "    The  assassin  began  to  tremble.     But  Florestan 


Fidelio  49 

and  Fidelio  knew  that  liberty  was  near.  One  word  of 
the  truth  to  the  Minister,  one  word  that  should  tell 
him  of  the  governor's  awful  cruelty  for  a  personal  revenge, 
would  set  Florestan  free  and  bring  punishment  to  Pizarro. 
Then  Jaquino  hurried  in: 

"Come,  come,  quick!  The  Minister  and  his  suite  are 
at  the  gates." 

"Thank  God,"  said  the  kind-hearted  jailer,  under  his 
breath.  "  The  man  is  surely  saved  now.  We're  coming, 
my  lad,  we're  coming,"  he  answered.  "Let  the  men 
come  down  and  bear  torches  before  Don  Pizarro.  He 
cannot  find  his  way  out."  Rocco's  voice  was  trembling 
with  gladness,  Florestan  was  almost  fainting  with  weak- 
ness because  of  the  sudden  joy  that  had  come  to  him, 
Fidelio  was  praying  to  heaven  in  gratitude,  while  Don 
Pizarro  was  horrified  at  the  thought  of  what  his  punish- 
ment would  be.  ' 

The  jailer  and  Don  Pizarro  ascended,  and  soon  Fer- 
nando ordered  all  the  prisoners  of  the  fortress  brought 
before  him.  He  had  come  to  investigate  the  doings  of 
the  governor  who  had  long  been  known  as  a  great  tyrant. 
When  the  unhappy  men,  who  had  been  abused  by  starv- 
ing and  confinement  in  underground  cells,  stood  before 
him,  the  Minister's  heart  was  sorely  touched,  and  Don 
Pizarro  was  more  and  more  afraid.  Presently,  Rocco 
fearlessly  brought  Fidelio  and  Don  Florestan  in  front  of 
Fernando. 

"Oh, great  Minister,!  beg  you  to  give  ear  to  the  wrongs 
of  this  sad  pair,"  he  cried,  and  as  Fernando  looked  at 
Florestan  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"What,  you?  Florestan?  My  friend,  whom  I  have 
so  long  believed  was  dead?  Thou  who  wert  the  friend 
of  the  oppressed,  who  tried  to  bring  to  punishment  this 


5©  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

very  wretch?"  he  said,  looking  at  Pizarro;  and  his  speech 
revealed  why  Pizarro  had  wanted  to  revenge  himself 
upon  the  unhappy  noble. 

"Yes,  yes,  it  is  Don  Florestan,  my  beloved  husband," 
Fidelio  answered,  while  the  good  Rocco  pushed  her  ahead 
of  him,  closer  to  Fernando's  side. 

"She  is  no  youth,  but  the  noblest  woman  in  the  world, 
Don  Fernando,"  Rocco  cried,  almost  weeping  in  his  agi- 
tation and  relief  at  the  turn  things  were  taking  for  those 
with  whom  he  sympathized. 

"Just  let  me  be  heard,"  Pizarro  called,  becoming  more 
and  more  frightened  each  moment. 

"Enough  of  thee,"  Fernando  answered,  bitterly,  in  a 
tone  that  boded  no  good  to  the  wretch.  Then  Rocco 
told  the  whole  truth  about  the  governor:  how  he,  him- 
self, had  had  to  lend  a  hand  to  his  wicked  schemes,  be- 
cause as  a  dependent  he  could  not  control  matters;  and 
then  all  the  prisoners  cried  out  for  Pizarro's  pvmishment. 

Fernando  commanded  Pizarro  to  give  Fidelio  the  key 
of  the  prison,  that  she,  the  faithful  wife,  should  have  the 
joy  of  unlocking  the  doors  and  giving  her  husband  his 
freedom.  All  the  other  prisoners  and  Fernando's  suite, 
the  jailer,  his  daughter,  Marcelline,  and  Jaquino  rejoiced 
and  sang  rapturously  of  Fernando's  goodness.  Pizarro  was 
left,  still  uncertain  of  his  punishment,  but  all  hoped  that 
he  would  be  made  to  take  Florestan's  place  in  the  dun- 
geon and  meet  the  fate  he  had  prepared  for  the  much 
abused  noble. 


BERLIOZ 

^T^HE  Damnation  of  Faust"  was  first  produced  as  an 
A  opera,  by  Raoul  Gunsburg,  in  Monte  Carlo,  about 
1903.  Before  that  time  it  had  been  conducted  only 
as  a  concerted  piece.  Later  it  was  produced  in  Paris, 
Calve  and  Alvarez  singing  the  great  roles.  That  was  in 
the  late  spring  of  1903. 

In  Europe  the  opera  was  produced  with  the  dream 
scene  (the  dream-Marguerite)  as  in  the  original 
plan  of  Berlioz,  but  in  this  country  this  dream-Mar- 
guerite was  omitted,  also  the  rain  in  the  ride  to  Hell; 
otherwise  the  European  and  the  New  York  production 
were  much  the  same.  At  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House, 
in  New  York,  there  were  three  hundred  people  upon  the 
stage  in  the  first  act,  and  every  attention  was  given  to 
scenic  detail.  This  piece  is  meant  for  the  concert  room, 
and  in  no  sense  for  the  operatic  stage,  but  great  care 
and  much  money  have  been  spent  in  trying  to  realize 
its  scenic  demands.  As  a  dramatic  production,  it  cannot 
compare  with  the ''Faust"  of  Gounod,  but  it  has  certain 
qualities  of  a  greater  sort,  which  have  made  impresarios 
desire  to  shape  it  for  the  stage. 

Berlioz  was  probably  one  of  the  least  attractive  of 
musicians.  As  a  man,  he  was  entirely  detestable.  He 
despised  (from  jealous  rather  than  critical  motives) 
all  music  that  was  not  his  own;  or  if  he  chose  to  applaud, 
his  applause  was  certain  to  be  for  some  obscure  person 
without  ability,  in  order  that  there  might  be  no  unfavour- 

51 


52  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

able  comparisons  drawn  between  his  own  work  and 
that  which  he  was  praising.  Beyond  doubt  he  was 
the  greatest  instrumentalist  of  Europe,  but  he  was 
"bizarre,  and  none  too  lucid. 

His  method  of  showing  his  contempt  for  other  great 
composers  like  Beethoven,  Mozart,  and  the  like,  was  to 
conduct  their  music  upon  important  occasions,  without 
having  given  himself  or  any  one  else  a  rehearsal.  He 
called  Haydn  a  ''pedantic  old  baby,"  and  refused  as 
long  as  he  lived  to  hear  Elijah  (Mendelssohn).  In 
short,  he  was  one  of  -the  vastly  disagreeable  people  of 
the  earth,  who  believe  that  their  own  genius  excuses 
everything. 

The  story  of  his  behaviour  at  a  performance  of  Che- 
rubini's  Ali  Baba  will  serve  as  an  illustration  of  his 
bad  taste. 

Cherubini  had  become  old,  and  was  even  more  anxious 
about  the  fate  of  his  compositions  than  he  had  been  in 
his  youth,  having  less  confidence  in  himself  as  he  de- 
clined in  years,  and  on  the  occasion  of  Ali  Baba  he 
was  especially  overwrought.  Berlioz  got  a  seat  in  the 
house,  and  made  his  disapproval  of  the  performance 
very  marked  by  his  manner.  Finally  he  cried  out 
toward  the  end  of  the  first  act,  "Twenty  francs  for 
an  idea!"  During  the  second  act  he  called,  "Forty 
francs  for  an  idea!"  and  at  the  finale  he  screeched, 
"Eighty  francs  for  an  idea!"  When  all  was  over,  he 
rose  wearily  and  said,  loud  enough  to  be  heard  all  over 
the  place,  "I  give  it  up  —  I'm  not  rich  enough!"  and 
went  out. 

There  is  hardly  an  anecdote  of  Berlioz  extant  that  does 
not  deal  with  his  cynicism  or  displeasing  qualities, 
therefore  we  may  more  or  less  assume  that  they  pretty 


Damnation  of  Faust  S3 

correctly  reflect  the  man.    One  of  the  stories  which  well 
illustrates  his  love  of  ''showing  up"  his  fellows,  concerns 
his  Fuite  en  Egypte.    When  it  was  produced  he  had 
put  upon  the  programme  as  the  composer   one  Pierre 
Ducre  "of  the  seventeenth  century."     The  critics,  one-, 
and  all,  wrote  of  the  old  and  worthless  score  that  Beriioz' 
had    unearthed  and  foisted  upon  the  suffering  public. 
Some  of  them  wrote  voluminously  and  knowingly  of 
the  life  of  Pierre  Ducre,  and  hinted  at  other  productions 
of  his,  which  they  said  demonstrated  his  puerility.     Then 
when  he  had  roused  all  the  discussion  he  pleased,  Berlioz 
came  forward  and  announced  that  there  never  had  been 
any  such  personage  as  Ducre,  and  that  it  was  himself 
who    had   written    Fuite   en   Egypte.      He   had   made 
everybody  appear  as  absurd  as  possible,  and  there  is 
no  sign  that  he  ever  did  that  sort  of  thing  for  the  pure 
love  of  a  joke.     He  was  malicious,  born  so,  lived  so,  and 
died  so.     However  great  his  music,   he  was  unworthy 
of  it. 

DAMNATION  OF  FAUST 

CHARACTERS   OF  THE   OPERA 

Faust. 

Mephistophiles. 

Brander. 

Marguerite. 

Sylphs,  students,  soldiers,  angels. 

Composer:  Hector  Berlioz. 

ACT   I 

One  lovely  morning,  in  a  Hungarian  meadow,  a  scholar 
went  to  walk  before  he  should  begin  his  day's  task  of 
study  and  of  teaching.  He  was  an  old  man,  who  had 
thought  of  little  in  life,  so  far  as  his  associates  knew,  be- 


54 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


sides  his  books;  but  secretly  he  had  longed  for  the  bright 
joys  of  the  world  most  ardently. 

While  he  lingered  in  the  meadow,  possessed  with  its 
morning  brightness,  and  its  summer  dress,  he  heard 
some  person  singing  not  far  away: 


f; 


Allegro. 


m 


td — • — -- 

The    shep — herd    donned  his    best 


3 


m 


s^ 


w 


-'— > — ' — 1;; — 

ray,  Wreath  and     jack- 


-et      and      rib — bons 


gay, 


Oh,         but        he, 


but 


m 


^ 


^3 


'^^      J 


he      was      smart     to      see,       The    cir — cle  dosed 


tjszq?: 


-^ — =^- 


i-2 


round  the      lin — den — tree, , 

n ». 


All 


-^"^^s^-^ 


I      U 


danced  and    sprang. 


All    danced  and  sprang,  aH 


A-, fV 


#* 

danced      and  sprang;    like     mad — men      danced    a- 


-^ 


Damnation  of  Faust ,  55 

r  J  ''  i  II 


*: 


way.  Hur-rah,  hur-rah,    huz-za— Tra la,  la,  la,  la, 

At  first  a  single  voice  was  singing,  but  soon  the  song 
was  taken  up  by  a  joyous  chorus,  and  Faust,  the  scholar, 
stopped  to  listen. 

Alas!  It  spoke  of  that  gaiety  he  had  so  longed  to 
enjoy.  A  group  of  peasants  were  out  for  a  holiday,  and 
their  sport  was  beginning  early.  While  he  meditated  on 
all  that  he  had  lost,  the  merrymakers  drew  near,  and  he 
watched  them  dance,  listened  to  them  laugh  and  sing, 
and  became  more  and  more  heartsick.  It  was  the  youth 
of  the  revellers  that  entered  into  his  heart.  There  was 
he,  so  old,  and  nearly  done  with  life;  done  with  its 
possibilities  for  joy  and  with  its  hardships! 

Then,  in  the  very  midst  of  these  thoughts  the  sound 
of  martial  music  was  heard.  Faust  shaded  his  eyes  with 
his  trembling  old  hand: 

"Ha!  A  splendour  of  weapons  is  brightly  gleaming 
afar:  the  sons  of  the  Danube  apparelled  for  war!  They 
gallop  so  proudly  along:  how  sparkle  their  eyes,  how 
flash  their  shields.  All  hearts  are  thrilled,  they  chant 
their  battle's  story !  While  my  heart  is  cold,  all  unmoved 
by  glory."  He  sang  this  in  recitative,  while  the 
music  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  as  the  army  passed 
by,  it  marched  to  one  of  the  famous  compositions  of 
history: 


^ 


i^jtr  fs-/r=^^=^ 


S6 


i 


*Jt* 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

f  #   ..  f  -r  r-  ^>- 


r  f  r  ^r-f^ 


f  r  ^  f  i"..  ^  •£ 


/  ^ 

Then  the  scene  changed,  and  Faust  was  once  more 
alone  in  his  study.     He  was  melancholy. 

"I  left  the  meadow  without  regret,  and  now,  without 
delight,  I  greet  our  haughty  mountains.  What  is  the 
use  of  such  as  I  continuing  to  live?  There  is  no  use! 
I  may  as  well  kill  myself  and  have  done  it."  And  after 
thinking  this  over  a  moment  in  silence  he  prepared  him- 
self a  cup  of  poison,  and  lifted  it  to  his  lips.  As  he  was 
about  to  drink  and  end  his  woes,  the  choir  from  the 
chapel  began  to  sing  an  Easter  hymn. 

"Ah!"  he  cried,  "the  memories  that  overwhelm  me! 
Oh,  my  weak  and  trembling  spirit,  wilt  thou  surely  ascend 
to  heaven,  borne  upward  by  this  holy  song!"  He  began 
to  think  of  his  happy  boyhood,  of  his  early  home;  then 
as  the  glorious  music  of  the  choir  swelled  higher  and 
higher,  he  became  gentler  and  thought  more  tolerantly 
of  life. 

"Those  soft  melodious  strains  bring  peace  to  my  soul; 
songs  more  sweet  than  morning,  I  hear  again !  My  tears 
spring  forth,  the  earth  has  won  me  back."  He  dropped 
his  head  upon  his  breast  and  wept.     As  he  sat  thus,  in 


Damnation  of  Faust  57 

tender  mood,  a  strange  happening  took  place.  A  queer, 
explosive  sound,  and  a  jet  of  flame,  and  —  there  stood 
the  devil,  all  in  red,  forked  tail,  horns,  and  cloven  hoof! 
He  stood  smiling  wickedly  at  the  softened  old  man,  while 
Faust  stared  at  him  wildly. 

"A  most  pious  frame  of  mind,  my  friend.  Give  me 
your  hand,  dear  Doctor  Faust.  The  glad  Easter  ring- 
ing of  bells  and  singing  of  peans  have  certainly  charmed 
you  back  to  earth!" 

"Who  art  thou,  whose  glances  are  so  fierce?  They 
burn  my  very  soul.  Speak,  thou  spectre,  and  teU  me 
thy  name."  From  his  very  appearance,  one  could 
hardly  doubt  he  was  the  Devil. 

"Why!  so  learned  a  man  as  you  should  know  me.  I 
am  thy  friend  and  comfort.  Come,  ye  are  so  melancholy. 
Doctor  Faust,  let  me  be  thy  friend  —  I'll  tell  thee  a 
secret:  if  you  but  say  the  word,  I'll  give  ye  your  dearest 
wish.  It  shall  be  whatever  you  wish.  Eh?  Shall  it 
be  wealth,  or  fame?  —  what  shall  it  be?  Come!  Let 
us  talk  it  over." 

"That  is  well,  wretched  demon!  I  think  I  know  ye 
now.  I  am  interested  in  ye.  Sit,  and  we  shall  talk," 
the  poor  old  Doctor  replied,  despising  that  which  never- 
theless aroused  his  curiosity.  He,  like  everybody  else, 
had  heard  of  the  Devil,  but  he  doubted  if  any  other 
had  had  the  fortune  actually  to  see  him. 

"Very  well;  I  will  be  thine  eye,  thine  ear.  I  will  give 
thee  the  world;  thou  shalt  leave  thy  den,  thy  hateful 
study.     Come!  to  satisfy  thy  curiosity,  follow  me." 

The  old  man  regarded  him  thoughtfully  for  a  moment, 
and  then  rose: 

"  Let  us  go,"  he  said,  and  in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye  they 
disappeared  into  the  air. 


58  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

They  were  transported  over  hill  and  dale,  village  and 
fine  city,  till  the  Devil  paused  at  Leipzig. 

"Here  is  the  place  for  us,"  he  said;  and  instantly  they 
descended  to  the  drinking  cellar  of  Auerbach,  a  man  who 
kept  fine  Rhenish  wine  for  jolly  fellows. 

They  entered  and  sat  at  a  table.  By  this  time  the 
Devil  had  changed  Faust  the  scholar,  into  a  young  and 
handsome  man,  youth  being  one  of  Faust's  dearest 
wishes. 

All  about  them  were  coarse  youths,  soldiers,  students, 
men  off  the  street,  all  drinking  and  singing  gaily.  Faust 
and  the  Devil  ordered  wine  and  became  a  part  of  the 
company.  They  were  all  singing  together  at  that 
moment: 

Oh,  what  delight  when  storm  is  crashing, 
To  sit  all  the  night  round  the  bowl; 
High  in  the  glass  the  liquor  flashing, 
While  thick  clouds  of  smoke  float  around. 

The  rest  of  the  words  were  not  very  dignified  nor 
fascinating,  and  Faust  looked  on  with  some  disgust. 
Presently  some  one  cried  out  to  a  half-drunken  fellow 
named  Brander  to  give  them  one  of  his  famous  songs,  and 
he  got  unsteadily  upon  his  feet  and  began: 

There  was  a  rat  in  the  cellar-nest 

Whom  fat  and  butter  made  smoother; 

He  had  a  paunch  beneath  his  vest 
Like  that  of  Doctor  Luther; 

The  cook  laid  poison  cunningly, 
And  then  as  sore  oppressed  was  he, 

As  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom. 

He  ran  around,  he  ran  about. 

His  thirst  in  puddles  laving; 
He  gnawed  and  scratched  the  house  throughout. 

But  nothing  cured  his  raving; 
He  whirled  and  jumped  with  torment  mad, 

And  soon  enough  the  poor  beast  had, 
As  if  he  had  love  in  liis  bosom. 


Damnation  of  Faust  59 

And  driven  at  last,  in  open  day, 

He  ran  at  last  into  the  kitchen. 
Fell  on  the  hearth  and  squirming  lay 

In  the  last  convulsion  twitching; 
Then  laughed  the  murd'ress  in  her  glee, 

"Ha,  ha!     He's  at  his  last  gasp,"  said  she, 
As  if  he  had  love  in  his  bosom. 

"Requiescat  in  pace,  amen!"  the  Devil  sang,  and  all 
joined  on  the  "amen."  "Now  then,  permit  me  to  sing 
you  a  ballad,"  the  Devil  cried,  gaily,  and  he  jumped 
upon  his  feet. 

"What,  you  pretend  that  you  can  do  better  than 
Brander?"  they  demanded,  a  little  piqued. 

"  Well,  you  see,  I  am  expert  at  anything  nasty  and  bad; 
so  let  us  see: 

There  was  a  king  once  reigning, 

VVho  had  a  big  black  flea. 
And  loved  him  past  explaining. 

As  his  own  son  were  he. 
He  called  his  man  of  stitches. 

The  tailor  came  straightway, 
"Here,  measure  the  lad  for  breeches, 

And  measure  his  coat,  I  say." 

I  n  silk  and  velvet  gleaming. 

He  now  was  wholly  drest, 
Had  a  coat  with  ribbons  streaming, 

A  cross  upon  his  breast. 
He  had  the  first  of  stations, 

A  minister's  star  and  name, 
And  also  his  relations. 

Great  lords  at  court  became. 

And  lords  and  dames  of  honour 

Were  plagued  awake  and  in  bed. 
The  Queen,  she  got  them  upon  her. 

The  maids  were  bitten  and  bled. 
And  they  did  not  dare  to  brush  them. 

Or  scratch  them  day  or  night. 
We  crack  them  and  we  crush  them, 

At  once  whene'er  they  bite. 

"Enough!"  said  Faust;  "I  want  to  leave  this  brutal 
company.     There  can  be  no  joys  found  where  there  is 


6o  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

so  much  that  is  low  and  degrading.  I  wish  to  go."  And 
turning  angrily  to  the  Devil,  he  signified  that  he  would 
leave  instantly. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  Prince  of  Darkness,  smiling  his 
satirical  smile.  "Away  we  go  —  and  better  success 
with  thee,  next  time."  At  which  he  placed  his  mantle 
upon  the  groimd,  they  stood  upon  it,  and  away  they 
flew  into  the  air  and  disappeared. 

When  next  they  stopped,  it  was  upon  a  grassy  bank 
of  the  Elbe  River. 

"Now,  my  friend;  let  us  rest.  Lie  thou  down  upon  the 
grassy  bank  and  close  thine  eyes,  and  dream  of  joys 
to  come.  When  we  awake  we  shall  wish  again  and 
see  what  new  experience  the  world  holds  for  us.  Thus 
far  you  do  not  seem  too  well  satisfied." 

"I  will  sleep,"  Faust  answered,  reclining  upon  the 
bank.  "I  should  be  glad  to  forget  some  things  that  we 
have  seen."  So  saying  he  slept.  No  sooner  had  he 
done  so,  that  the  Devil  summoned  the  most  beautiful 
sylphs  to  dance  before  him,  and  thus  to  influence  Faust's 
dreams.  They  began  by  softly  calling  his  name.  Then 
they  lulled  him  to  deeper  sleep,  and  his  dream  was  of 
fair  women.  In  his  dream  he  saw  the  lovely  dance, 
the  gracious  forms,  the  heavenly  voices  of  youthful 
women.  The  Devil  directed  his  dream-laden  eyes  toward 
a  loving  pair  who  walked  and  spoke  and  loved  apart. 
Then  immediately  behind  those  lovers  walked,  medita- 
tively, a  beautiful  maiden. 

"Behold,"  the  Black  Prince  murmured  to  Faust; 
"that  maiden  there  who  follows:  she  shall  be  thy 
Marguerite.  Shall  it  not  be  so?"  And  Faust  sank 
back  in  his  sleep,  overcome  with  the  lovely  vision.  Then 
the  Devil  motioned  the  sylphs  away. 


Damnation  of  Faust  6i 

"Away,  ye  dainty  elves,  ye  have  served  my  turn  to- 
day, and  I  shall  not  forget."  They  danced  to 
exquisite  waltz  music,  hovering  above  Faust,  and 
gradually  disappeared  in  the  mists  of  the  air. 

Slowly  Faust  awakened;  His  first  word  was  "Mar- 
guerite!"    Then  he  looked  about  him  in  a  daze. 

"What  a  dream!  What  a  dream!"  he  murmured. 
"I  saw  an  angel  in  human  form." 

"Nay,  she  was  a  woman,"  said  the  Devil.  "Rise  and 
follow  me,  and  I  will  show  her  to  thee  in  her  home. 
Hello!  Here  comes  along  a  party  of  jolly  students  and 
soldiers.  They  will  pass  her  home.  We'll  move  along 
with  them,  join  their  shouts  and  songs,  and  presently 
we  shall  arrive  at  her  house."  Faust,  all  trembling 
with  the  thought  that  at  last  he  had  found  that  which 
was  to  make  his  life  worth  living,  joined  the  crowd  and 
followed.  The  soldiers  boisterously  sang  a  fine  chorus  as 
they  went.  No  sooner  had  they  finished  than  the  students 
began  their  song.  It  was  all  in  Latin  and  seemed  to  Faust 
to  echo  that  life  which  had  once  been  his.  Then  the  soldiers 
and  students  joined  in  the  jollity  and  sang  together. 

This  fun  lasted  what  to  Faust  seemed  too  long  a  time 
He  was  impatient  to  see  and  speak  with  the  dear  maiden 
Marguerite;  and  at  last,  his  wish  was  to  be  granted. 
The  Devil  set  him  down  without  ceremony  in  the  young 
girl's  house.  There,  where  she  lived,  where  her  meagre 
belongings  were  about,  he  sang  rapturously  of  her.  He 
went  about  the  room,  looking  at  her  chair,  her  basket 
of  work,  the  place  where  she  should  sleep,  examining 
all  with  rapture.     Then  the  Devil  said  in  an  undertone: 

"She  is  coming!  hide  thyself,  and  frighten  her  not." 
Then  he  hid  Faust  behind  some  curtains  and  took  him- 
self off  with  the  parting  advice: 


62  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Have  a  care  not  to  frighten  her,  or  thou  wilt  lose 
her.  Now  make  the  most  of  thy  time."  Faust's  heart 
beat  so  with  love  that  he  feared  to  betray  himself. 

Then  Marguerite  entered.  She  was  as  lovely  as  a 
dream.  She  was  simple  and  gentle,  and  very  young  and 
innocent.  She  had  never  seen  any  one  outside  her  little 
village.  She  was  so  good  that  she  could  fairly  tell  by 
instinct  if  evil  influences  were  about  her.  She  no  sooner 
entered  the  chamber  than  she  was  aware  of  something 
wrong.  She  felt  the  presence  of  the  evil  one  who  had  but 
just  gone.     She  paused  and  murmured  to  herself: 

"The  air  is  very  sultry,"  and  she  felt  stifled.  "I  am 
trembling  like  a  little  child.  I  think  it  is  the  dream  I 
had  last  night"  (for  the  Devil  had  given  her  a  dream  as 
he  had  given  Faust,  and  in  it  she  had  seen  her  future 
husband).  "I  think  it  is  because  I  expect  every  moment 
since  my  dream,  to  see  the  one  who  is  to  love  and  cherish 
me  the  rest  of  my  life."  The  simple  folk  of  Marguerite's 
time  believed  in  dreams  and  portents  of  all  kinds. 

There  she  sat  in  her  chair  and  recalled  how  handsome 
the  lover  of  her  dream  was,  and  how  truly  she  already 
loved  him.  Then  she  decided  to  go  to  bed,  and  while 
she  was  folding  her  few  things,  putting  her  apron  away, 
combing  out  her  long  and  beautiful  hair,  she  sang  an 
old  Gothic  song,  of  the  King  of  Thule: 


Jfrvi>H  it  1 


There  was    a      king    in         Thu le Was 


lA  ,     - 

h-r- 1 ^ : f^ 

!         1         k,   s»    •!]     N»    M     N       1^  rlJ 

W  ^  i 

— \ — 
— #— 

— * — ^ — ^"^-^  "     '  S     d    ^' 

faithful        till       the     grave  To  whom  his 


Damnation  of  Faust 


63 


iSSe: 


mistress. 


dy- 


-mg, 


A    gold- 


f      1     1      ^ 


^ 


-en    gob- 


-let 


gave.- 


Naught 


te 


*: 


m 


^— »y- 


:M*: 


=S 


:^ 


was      to      him       more    pre — cious,    He    drained  it 


:?i=2p: 


^ 


at- 


-ev — ry 


bout. 


His 


eyes- 


-with 


i 


=^ 


3S 


diic 


-&•- 


tears 


As- 


■^ft 


1 


-S>-r- 


as    he      drank 


there — out. 


When  came  his  time  of  dying, 

The  towns  in  his  land  he  told; 
Naught  else  to  his  heir  denying 

Except  the  goblet  of  gold.  1 
He  sat  at  the  royal  banquet, 

With  his  knights  of  high  degree, 
In  the  lofty  hall  of  his  fathers, 

In  the  castle  by  the  sea. 

There  stood  the  old  carouser, 

And  drank  the  last  life-glow, 
And  hurled  the  hallow'd  goblet 

Into  the  tide  below. 
He  saw  it  plunging  and  filling, 

And  sinking  deep  in  the  sea. 
Then  his  eyelids  fell  forever. 

And  never  more  drank  he. 

There  was  a  King  once  in  Thule, 
Faithful  was  he  —  to  the  grave. 


64  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Then  the  Devil,  who  was  watching  all,  summoned  his 
imps.  This  time  they  took  the  form  of  Will-o'-the- 
wisps. 

"Come!  dance  and  confuse  this  maiden,  and  see  what 
we  can  do  to  help  this  lovesick  Faust,"  he  cried  to  them, 
and  at  once  they  began  a  wonderful  dance.  Marguerite 
watched  them  entranced,  and  by  the  time  Faust  appeared 
from  the  folds  of  the  curtains  she  was  half  dazed  and 
confused  by  the  unreal  spectacle  she  had  seen.  Then 
she  recognized  the  handsome  fellow  as  the  one  she  had 
seen  in  her  dream. 

"I  have  seen  thee  in  my  dreams,"  she  said,  "and  thou 
wert  one  who  loved  me  well."  Faust,  entranced  with  her 
beauty  and  goodness,  promised  to  love  her  forever;  and 
as  he  embraced  her,  the  Devil  suddenly  popped  in. 

"Hasten,"  he  cried.     "We  must  be  off." 

"Who  is  this  man?"  Marguerite  cried  in  affright. 

"A  brute,"  Faust  declared,  knowing  well  the  devilish- 
ness  of  his  pretended  friend  in  whose  company  he 
travelled. 

"Nay!  I  am  your  best  friend.  Be  more  courteous," 
the  Devil  cautioned,  smiling. 

"I  expect  I  am  intruding,"  he  continued.  "But  really 
I  came  to  save  this  angel  of  a  girl.  Our  songs  have 
awakened  all  the  neighbours  round,  and  they  are  running 
hither  like  a  pack  of  hounds  to  see  what  is  going  on. 
They  know  this  pretty  girl  has  a  young  man  in  here 
talking  with  her,  and  already  they  are  calling  for  her  old 
gossip  of  a  mother.  When  her  mother  comes  ye  will 
catch  it  finely.     So  come  along." 

"Death  and  Hell!"  Faust  cried,  not  knowing  how  near 
he  was  to  both. 

"There  is  no  time  for  that.    Just  come  along.    You 


Damnation  of  Faust  65 

and  the  young  woman  will  have  plenty  of  tune  hereafter 
to  see  each  other.     But  just  now  we  must  be  off." 

''But  she " 

"It  will  go  hard  with  her  if  we  are  found  here,  so  ye 
had  better  come  on,  if  only  for  her  sake." 

"But,  return,  return,"  Marguerite  cried,  looking 
tenderly  at  Faust. 

"I  shall  return,  never  to  leave  thee,"  he  cried,  and 
then,  interrupted  by  the  noise  made  by  men  and  women 
in  the  street,  who  were  coming  to  find  out  what  he  was 
doing  there,  Faust  left  hurriedly.  Every  night  thereafter 
for  a  time  they  met,  and  Marguerite  was  persuaded  by 
the  Devil  to  give  her  old  mother  a  sleeping  potion  to 
keep  her  from  surprising  them.  Then  one  day  the 
Devil  again  lured  Faust  away. 

"Now  thou  shalt  never  see  her  again,"  the  Devil 
said  to  himself,  gloating  over  the  sorrow  Faust  was  sure 
to  feel;  and  away  they  fled,  the  Devil  sure  of  tempting 
Faust  anew. 

After  that  Marguerite,  left  quite  alone,  watched  sadly, 
each  day  for  the  return  of  her  lover,  but  alas!  he  never 
came.  One  night  while  she  was  leaning  out  of  her  case- 
ment, the  villagers  were  singing  of  the  return  of  the 
army. 

"Alas,  they  are  all  making  merry,  soldiers  and  students, 
as  on  the  night  when  I  first  saw  my  lover,  but  he  is  no 
longer  among  them."  And  then  sadly  she  closed  her 
window  and  kept  her  lonely  vigil,  ever  hoping  for  his 
return. 

Away  in  a  cavern,  in  the  depths  of  the  forest,  was 
Faust.  He  had  never  returned  to  Marguerite's  vUlage, 
and  neither  had  he  known  any  peace  of  mind-  He  had 
immediately   found   other   pleasures    which   had   for   a 


66  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

time  made  him  forget  her,  and  then,  when  he  was  far 
away  and  it  was  too  late  to  return,  he  desired  again  to 
be  with  her.  Now,  sitting  apart  in  the  wood,  mourning, 
the  Devil  came  to  him. 

"How  about  that  constant  love  of  thine?  Do  ye  never 
think  of  that  poor  child  Marguerite,  lonely  and  far  away, 
awaiting  thee  month  after  month?" 

"  Be  silent  and  do  not  torture  me,  fiend, ' '  Faust  cried 
bitterly. 

"Oh  I  have  a  lot  to  tell  thee,"  the  Black  Prince  re- 
plied. "I  have  been  saving  news  for  thee.  Dost  thou 
remember  how,  on  those  nights  when  thou  didst  go  to 
see  that  good  maiden,  she  was  told  to  give  her  old  mother 
a  sleeping  draught,  that  she  might  sleep  soundly  while 
ye  billed  and  cooed?  Well,  when  ye  were  gone.  Mar- 
guerite still  expected  ye,  and  continued  to  give  the 
draught,  and  one  night  the  old  dame  slept  forever,  and 
I  tell  thee  that  draught  killed  her.  Now  thy  Marguerite 
is  going  to  be  hanged  for  it."  Upon  hearing  that,  Faust 
nearly  died  with  horror. 

"What  is  it  ye  tell  me?"  he  cried.  "My  God!  This 
is  not  true." 

"All  right.  All  right.  Believe  it  or  not,  it  is  the 
same  to  me  —  and  to  her  —  because  that  poor  maid  is 
about  to  die  for  killing  her  mother." 

"Thou  shalt  save  her,  or  I  shall  kill  —  "  But  he 
stopped  in  his  fury,  knowing  that  none  could  kill  the 
Devil.     He  wrung  his  hands  in  despair. 

"Now  if  thou  wilt  keep  thyself  a  bit  civil,  I  may  save 
her  for  thee,  but  don't  forget  thy  manners." 

At  that  Faust  was  in  a  fury  of  excitement  to  be  off 
to  Marguerite's  village. 

"Not  so  fast,  not  so  fast,"  the  Devil  said.     "Now  if 


Damnation  of  Faust  67 

I  am  to  save  thy  love,  I  must  have  a  little  agreement 
with  thee.  I  want  your  signature  to  this  paper.  Sign, 
and  I  promise  to  save  her,  without  fail.  But  I  must 
have  that  first." 

"I  will  give  thee  anything,"  Faust  cried,  and  instantly 
signed  the  paper.  That  paper  was  really  an  agreement 
to  give  the  Devil  his  soul  when  he  should  die,  so  Faust 
had  abandoned  his  last  hope  on  earth  or  hereafter.  Then 
the  Devil  called  for  his  horses  —  his  black  horses  upon 
which  damned  souls  rode  with  him  to  Hell. 

"Mount,"  he  said  to  Faust,  "and  in  a  trice  we  shall 
be  with  thy  Marguerite  and  snatch  her  from  the  gallows." 
Instantly  they  mounted  and  then  began  the  fearful  ride 
to  Hell. 

Presently  they  came  near  a  crowd  of  peasants  kneeling 
about  a  roadside  cross. 

"Oh,  have  a  care.  Let  us  not  ride  upon  them,"  Faust 
cried. 

"Get  on,  get  on,"  the  Devil  cried.  "It  is  thy  Mar- 
guerite we  are  hastening  to,"  and  the  poor  peasants 
scattered  in  every  direction,  some  being  trampled  upon 
and  little  children  hurt. 

"Horrible,  horrible,"  Faust  cried.  "What  is  that 
monster  pursuing  us?"  he  whispered,  glancing  fearfully 
behind  him. 

"Ye  are  dreaming." 

"Nay!  and  there  are  hideous  birds  of  prey  now 
joining  us.  They  rush  upon  us.  What  screams?  Their 
black  wings  strike  mc."     And  then  a  bell  tolled. 

"Hark  ye!  It  is  the  bell  for  her  death.  Hasten," 
the  Devil  urged. 

"Aye,  make  haste,  make  haste."  And  the  horses, 
black   as    night,    were   urged   on   and   on.     "See   those 


68  Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 

ghastly  skeletons  dancing!"  Faust  screamed,  as  the  fear- 
ful spectres  gathered  round  them. 

"Think  not  of  them,  but  of  our  Marguerite!"  the 
Devil  counselled. 

"Our  horses'  manes  are  bristling.  They  tremble, 
the  earth  rocks  wildly.  I  hear  the  thunders  roar,  it 
is  raining  blood,"  Faust  shrieked.  Then  the  De\al 
shouted: 

"Ah!  Ye  slaves  of  Hell,  your  trumpets  blow.  I 
come  triumphant.  This  man  is  mine!"  And  as  he 
spoke,  the  two  riders  fell  headlong  into  the  abyss  of 
Hell. 

Then  all  the  fiends  of  Hell  began  to  sing  wildly.  The 
scene  was  one  of  damnation. 

Then,  grandly  above  Hell's  din  rose  a  mighty  chorus. 
It  was  a  heavenly  strain.  Marguerite  had  not  been 
spared  the  horror  of  execution;  but  dead,  the  saints 
forgave  her.    In  Heaven,  as  her  soul  ascended,  they  sang : 

"Ascend,  O  trusting  spirit!  It  was  love  which  misled 
thee.  Come,  let  us  wipe  away  thy  tears.  Come,  come, 
and  dwell  forever  among  the  blest." 

And  thus  Faust  met  his  end,  and  Marguerite  her  re- 
ward for  faith  and  innocence. 


BIZET 

WHEN  Bizet  wrote  his  music  around  Prosper  Meri- 
mee's  story  of  Carmen,  he  reflected  his  familiar- 
ity with  Spanish  Hfe  and  his  long  Hving  in  the  Pyrenees 
mountains.  The  character  of  Michaela  is  not  found  in 
the  novel,  but  the  clever  introduction  of  it  into  the  opera 
story  adds  greatly  to  dramatic  effect,  since  the  gentle 
and  loving  character  is  in  strong  contrast  with  that  of 
Carmen. 

Bizet's  name  was  Alexandre  Cesar  Leopold,  and  he  was 
born  on  October  25,  1838,  at  Bougival,  and  died  June 
3,  1875.  He  with  Charles  Lecocq  won  the  Offenbach 
prize  for  the  best  operetta  while  Bizet  was  as  yet  a  youth, 
and  from  that  time  his  art  gained  in  strength  and  beauty. 
In  those  days  it  was  a  reproach  to  suggest  Wagner  in 
musical  composition,  but  Bizet  was  accused  of  doing 
so.  Thus  he  was  handicapped  by  leaning  toward  an 
unpopular  school  at  the  very  start,  but  the  great  beauty 
of  his  productions  made  their  way  in  spite  of  all.  He 
wrote,  as  his  second  composition  of  importance,  an  opera 
around  the  novel  of  Scott's  Fair  Maid  of  Perth  —  in 
French,  La  Jolie  Fille  de  Perth  —  and  this  was  not 
a  success,  but  that  same  opera  survives  through  his 
Carmen.  The  Bohemian  dance  in  that  opera  was 
taken  from  it  and  interpolated  into  the  fourth  act  of 
Carmen. 

Bizet  died  only  three  months  after  the  production  of 
this  last  opera,  but  he  had  lived  long  enough  to  know 

69 


70  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

that  he  had  become  one  of  the  world's  great  composers. 
He  wrote  exquisite  pastoral  music  for  "I'Arl^sienne" 
—  whose  story  was  adapted  from  Daudet's  novel  of 
that  name.  In  short,  Bizet  was  the  pioneer  in  a  new 
school  of  French  opera,  doing  for  it  in  a  less  measure 
what  Wagner  has  finally  done  for  the  whole  world. 

This  genius  left  few  anecdotes  or  personal  reminis- 
cences behind  him.  The  glory  of  his  compositions  alone 
seems  to  stand  for  his  existence. 

CARMEN 

CHARACTERS  OF  THE  OPERA  WITH  THE  ORIGINAL  CAST,  AS  PRESENTED 
AT  THE   FIRST  PERFORMANCE 

Don  Jose,  Corporal  of  Dragoons M.  Lherie 

Escamillo,  Toreador ^A  .°"^^ 

Zuniga,  Captain  of  Dragoons \^t? 

Morales.  Officer ^vP'^J'^r^ 

Lillias  Pastia,  Innkeeper ■     M.  >Jatha^ 

Carmen,  Gipsy-girl Mme  Galh-Man6 

Michaela,  a  ViUage  Maiden MUe"  SucSe 

Frasquita >^,     ^u       rl! 

Mercedes MUe.  Chevaber 

ilR:=°ado}s-^^i-- 

A  guide.  .  ,      .      ^  t-  4. 

Dragoons,  gypsies,  smugglers,  cigarette-girls,  street-boys,  etc. 

The  time  of  the  story  is  1820,  and  it  takes  place  in  and  near  Seville. 

Composer:  Georges  Bizet. 

Book:  H.  Meilhac  and  L.  Halevy. 

First  sung  at  the  Opera  Comique,  Paris,  March  3,  1875. 

I  KNEW  a  boy  who  once  said:  "That  soldier  thing  in 
'Carmen'  is  the  most  awful  bully  thing  to  whistle  a 
fellow  ever  heard;  but  if  you  don't  get  it  just  right,  it 
doesn't  sound  like  anything,"  which  was  a  mistake, 
because  if  you  don't  get  it  "just  right"  it  sounds  some- 
thing awful.  That  boy's  whistle  was  twenty  per  cent, 
better  than  his  syntax,  but  his  judgment  about    music 


Carmen 


71 


was  pretty  good,  and  we  shall  have  the  soldier  song  in 
the  very  beginning,  even  before  learning  how  it  hap- 
pens, because  it  is  the  thing  we  are  likely  to  recall,  in  a 
shadowy  sort  of  way,  throughout  the  first  act: 


^ 


f  Ben  ritenuto,  quassi  staccato. 


:2=B. 


i 


^^-&f- 


^^ 


With  the  guard  on  du — ty  go — ing       March-ing  on-ward, 


-*— g-5 


a--^ 


»— « 


-j^ 


->i— ^— >^ 


-V it s=^ 

here  we      are!        Sound,  trum-pets  mer-ri-ly      blowingl 


#. 


5 — "' ■ 


-^ — ^ 


/ 


\— \-<»- 


E^ 


i^=^ 


tr r- 

Ta      ra  ta  ta    ta       ra      ta      ta. 


V— 


a 


On  we  tramp,  a — 


I — H S S 1 S S 1 ^^ — 

-r-jv^ — T — a*       m       0 — r~   j       * »       '-  1       '>**       * — »'r 

CgZ > _^ tv — L-V 'V -^=^ — 


lert    and  read — y,       like  young  soldiers    ev — 'ry      one; — 

(spohen. ) 


Heads    up    and     foot — fall — stead — y,        Left!  right!  we're 


march— ing  on!  See  how  straight  our      shoulders  are,- 


Ev — 'ry  breast    is    swell 'd  with  pride, 


Our    arms  all 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


^- 


^ 


-^-g- 


reg — u — lar Hang — ing  down  on    ei — ther  side. 


i^ 


With  the  guard  on     du-ty     go — ing,    March-ing  on-ward, 
ores,  mollo. 


^ 


'r^AM-^.-^. 


^ 


1^-^- 


here  we      are! — Sound,  trumpets  mer — ri — ly  blow-ing, 

ff.      ._ 


^ 


^^ 


I 


Ta      ra        ta      ta       ta 


ra       ta       ta! 


That    is   the    way   it  goes,    and  this  is  the  way  it 
happens : 

ACT    I 


Once  upon  a  time  there  wasaprettygirlnamedMichaela, 
and  she  was  as  good  as  she  was  beautiful.  She  loved  a 
corporal  in  the  Spanish  army  whose  name  was  Don 
Jose.  Now  the  corporal  was  a  fairly  good  chap,  but  he 
had  been  born  thoughtless,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  had 
lived  away  from  home  for  so  long  that  he  had  half-for- 
gotten his  old  mother  who  Hved  a  lonely  life  with.Michaela. 

One  day,  about  noontime,  the  guard,  waiting  to  be 
reheved  by  their  comrades,  were  on  duty  near  the  guard- 
house, which  was  situated  in  a  public  square  of  Seville. 
As  the  soldiers  sat  about,  or  walked  with  muskets  over 
shoulders,  their  service  was  not  especially  wearisome, 
because  people  were  continually  passing  through  the 
square,  and  besides  there  was  a  cigarette  factory  on  the 


Carmen  73 

other  side  of  the  square,  and  when  the  factory  hands 
tumbled  out,  about  noon,  there  was  plenty  of  carousing 
and  gaiety  for  an  hour.  Here  in  the  square  were  little 
donkeys  with  tinkling  bells  upon  them,  and  donkeys 
carrying  packs  upon  their  backs,  and  gentlemen  in  black 
velvet  cloaks  which  were  thrown  artistically  over  one 
shoulder,  and  with  plumes  on  their  hats.  Then,  too, 
there  were  ragged  folks  who  looked  rather  well,  never- 
theless, since  their  rags  were  Spanish  rags,  and  made  a 
fine  show  of  bright  colours. 

Just  as  Morales,  the  officer  of  the  guard,  was  finding 
the  hot  morning  rather  slow,  and  wishing  the  factory 
bell  would  ring,  and  his  brother  ofiicer  march  his  men  in 
to  relieve  him,  Michaela  appeared.  She  had  come  into 
the  city  from  the  home  of  Jose's  mother,  which  was 
somewhere  near,  in  the  hills.  His  old  mother  had  become 
so  lonely  and  worried,  not  having  heard  from  Jose  for 
so  long,  that  at  last  the  girl  had  undertaken  to  come 
down  into  the  city,  bearing  a  note  from  his  mother,  and 
to  seek  him  out  at  his  barracks.  She  had  inquired  her 
way  till  she  found  the  square  where  the  guard  was  quar- 
tered, and  now,  when  she  entered  it.  Morales  was  the 
first  to  see  her. 

"That  is  a  pretty  girl,"  Morales  decided  as  he  watched 
her.  "Seems  to  be  looking  for  some  one  —  little  strange 
in  this  part  of  the  town,  probably.  Can  I  do  anything 
for  you?"  he  called  to  her,  as  she  approached. 

"I  am  looking  for  Don  Jose,  a  soldier,  if  you  know 
him " 

"Perfectly.  He  is  corporal  of  the  guard  which  is 
presently  to  relieve  us.  If  you  wait  here,  you  are  certain 
to  see  him."  Michaela  thanked  him  quietly,  and  went 
away.     The  soldiers  were  strange  to  her,  and  she  pre- 


74  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

ferred  to  wait  in  another  part  of  the  square  rather  than 
where  they  were  idling.  She  had  no  sooner  disappeared 
than  the  music  of  the  reUef  guard  was  heard  in  the 
distance.  It  was  the  soldiers'  chorus:  a  regular  fife 
and  drum  affair.  It  came  nearer,  nearer,  nearer,  till 
it  arrived  in  full  blast,  fresh  as  a  pippin,  the  herald  of 
all  that  was  going  to  happen  through  four  acts  of  opera. 
There  was  to  be  fighting  and  smugglers:  factory-girls 
in  a  row,  and  Carmen  everywhere  and  anywhere,  all 
of  the  time. 

With  the  new  guard  comes  first  the  bugler  and  a  fifer 
with  a  lot  of  little  ragged  urchins  tagging  along  behind; 
then  comes  Zuniga  strutting  in,  very  much  pleased  with 
himself,  and  after  him  Don  Jose,  the  corporal,  whom 
Michaela  has  come  to  town  to  see.  The  street  boys  sing 
while  the  new  guard  lines  up  in  front  of  the  old  one,  and 
every  one  takes  up  the  song.  It  is  the  business  of  every 
one  in  opera  to  sing  about  everything  at  any  time.  Thus 
the  guard  describes  itself  in  song: 

On  we  tramp,  alert  and  steady, 

Like  young  soldiers,  every  one! 
Head  up,  and  foot-fall  steady. 

Left,  right!  we're  marching  on! 

See  how  straight  our  shoulders  are,  — 
Every  breast  is  swelled  with  pride, 

Our  arms  all  regular  — 
Hanging  down  on  either  side. 

There  is  not  much  poetry  in  this,  but  there  is  lots  of 
vim,  and  the  new  guard,  as  bright  as  a  new  tin  whistle, 
has  formed  and  the  old  guard  marched  off  during  the 
singing.  Meantime,  while  things  have  been  settling 
down.  Morales  has  had  a  word  with  Don  Jose. 

"A  pretty  girl  is  somewhere  near  here,  looking  for 


Carmen  75 

you,  Jose.  She  wore  a  blue  gown  and  her  hair  is  in  a 
braid  down  her  back;  she's " 

"Iknowher;it  is  Michaela,"  Jose  declares:  and,  with  the 
sudden  knowledge  that  she  is  so  near,  and  that  she  comes 
directly  from  his  old  mother,  he  feels  a  longing  for  home, 
and  realizes  that  he  has  been  none  too  thoughtful  or 
kind  toward  those  who  love  him.  As  everybody  finds 
himself  in  p-ace,  Zuniga  points  across  to  the  cigarette 
factory. 

"Did  you  ever  notice  that  there  are  often  some  tre- 
mendously pretty  girls  over  there?"  he  asks  of  Jose. 

"Huh?"  Jose  answers,  abstractedly.     Zuniga  laughs. 

"You  are  thinking  of  the  pretty  girl  Morales  has  just 
told  you  of,"  he  says.  "The  girl  with  the  blue  petticoat 
and  the  braid  down  her  back!" 

"Well,  why  not?  I  love  her,"  Jose  answers  shortly. 
He  hunches  his  musket  a  little  higher  and  wheels  about. 
He  doesn't  specially  care  to  talk  of  Michaela  or  his  mother, 
with  these  young  scamps  who  are  as  thoughtless  as 
himself:  he  has  preserved  so  much  of  self-respect;  but 
before  he  can  answer  again  the  factory  bell  rings.  Dinner 
time!  Jose  stands  looking  across,  as  every  one  else  does, 
while  the  factory  crowd  begins  to  tumble  out,  helter- 
skelter.  All  come  singing,  and  the  girls  smoking  ciga- 
rettes, a  good  many  of  them  being  gipsies,  like  Carmen. 
They  are  dressed  in  all  sorts  of  clothes  from  dirty  silk 
petticoats,  up  to  self-respecting  rags.  Carmen  is  some- 
where in  the  midst  of  the  hullabaloo,  and  everybody 
is  sliouting  for  her. 

Carm.cn  leads  in  everything.  She  leads  in  good  and 
she  leads  in  bad.  She  makes  the  best  and  the  worst 
cigarettes,  she  is  the  quickest  and  she  is  the  slowest,  as 
the  mood  moves  her;  and  now,  when  she  flashes  on  to 


76 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


the  stage  in  red  and  yellow  fringes  and  bedraggled  finery, 
cigarette  in  mouth  and  bangles  tinkling,  opera  has  given 
to  the  stage  the  supreme  puzzle  of  humanity:  the  woman 
who  does  always  what  she  pleases,  and  who  pleases  never 
to  do  the  thing  expected  of  her! 

The  first  man  she  sees  when  she  comes  from  the  factory 
is  Jose.  The  first  thing  that  she  pleases  to  do  is  to  make 
Jose  love  her.  It  will  be  good  fun  for  the  noon  hour. 
She  has  her  friends  with  her,  Frasquita  and  Mercedes, 
and  all  are  in  the  mood  for  a  frolic.    They  smg: 


jd  Allegretto,  quassi  andantino. 

-3 


J»=fc» 


i 


-^*- 


^^lE 


|r4   t'     l; 


:t=t: 


-+- 


mi 


Love    is     like    an — ^y  wood-bird    wild,  That  none  can 

■    I I "It — 


-^ 


zirfzE 


^ 


^ 


■V — i*^ 


ev  —  er  hope  to    tame;  And  in      vain  is  all  woo — ing 

portamento. 


^5—^ 


-N—N 


W^g^^ 


^r:^- 


S 


:«*: 


mild         If  he     re  —  fuse  your  heart  to  claim.  Naught  a- 


g 


ps 


^ 


^l 


-Jf=^ 


-^ K- 


~& 


vails,   neither      threat    nor      prayer,       One  speaks  me 
portamento. 


—  Tho'  mute,  his  heart     to  mine  re  —  plies. 


Carmen  'j'j 

While  Carmen  sings,  her  eyes  do  not  leave  Don  Jose, 

and  he  is  watching  her  in  spite  of  himself.     The  racket 

continues  till  the  factory  bell  rings  to  call  the  crowd 

back  to  work.     Carmen  goes  reluctantly,  and    as    she 

goes,  she  throws  a  flower  at  Jose. 

This  little  flower  gave  me  a  start 
Like  a  ball  aimed  fair  at  my  heart! 

he  says,  half  smiling,  half  seriously,  as  he  picks  it  up. 
While  he  stands  thus,  looking  toward  the  factory,  hold- 
ing the  flower,  thinking  of  Carmen,  Michaela  comes  back 
into  the  square.  They  espy  each  other,  and  a  sudden 
warmth  and  tenderness  come  upon  Jose:  after  all,  he 
loves  her  dearly  —  and  there  is  his  old  mother!  His 
better  self  responds:  Jose,  in  imagination,  sees  the  little 
house  in  the  hills  where  he  lived  as  a  boy  before  he 
went  soldiering.  He  recalls  vividly  for  the  first  time 
in  months,  those  who  are  faithful  to  him,  and  for  a  moment 
he  loves  them  as  they  love  him.  They  speak  together. 
Michaela  gives  him  the  note  from  his  mother.  There  is 
money  in  it:  she  has  thought  he  might  be  in  debt,  or 
in  other  trouble  and  need  it.  Jose  is  surprised  by  the 
tears  in  his  own  eyes  —  it  is  a  far  cry  from  gay  Seville 
to  the  little  house  among  the  hills! 

"  Go  back  to  mother,  Michaela,  tell  her  I  am  going  to 
get  leave  as  soon  as  I  can  and  am  coming  back  to  her 
and  you.  I  am  going  to  play  fair.  There's  not  much 
in  life,  otherwise.  Go  home  and  tell  her  I  am  coming,  and 
I  mean  to  make  you  both  as  happy  as  once  I  meant  to." 

His  sudden  tenderness  enraptures  the  young  girl,  and 
kissing  him  she  sets  out  to  leave  Seville  with  a  glad  heart. 
Jose,  left  alone,  on  guard,  his  life  and  thought  interrupted 
by  this  incident  of  home  and  faithfulness,  leans  thought- 
fully upon  his  musket. 


78  Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 

**It  hasn't  been  quite  right,  and  I  am  not  happy. 
We'll  change  all  this,"  he  meditates. 

As  the  afternoon  sun  grows  hot  the  citizens  begin  to 
creep  within  doors  for  the  siesta,  as  all  Spanish  life  seems 
to  grow  tired  and  still  in  the  burning  day.  Suddenly 
the  silence  is  broken  by  a  scream  from  over  the  way. 
Jose  starts  up  and  looks  across. 

"Hey,  there!  what  the  devil!"  Zuniga  shouts  from  the 
guard-house,    and    runs    out.      "Hello,     hello!    Jose, 

look  alive  there!    What's  gone  wrong?  —  what  the " 

And  the  men  start  to  run  across  the  square. 

"Help,  help!"  comes  from  the  factory.  "Will  no 
one  come?  We're  being  killed  —  the  she-devil  —  look 
out  for  her  —  Carmen!  Look  out  for  her  —  she  has  a 
knife!"  Every  one  is  screaming  at  once  and  trying 
each  in  his  own  way  to  tell  what  has  happened. 

"Get  in  there,  Jose,  and  bring  out  the  girl.  Arrest 
the  gipsy;  and  you  men  here  get  into  this  crowd  and 
quiet  it  down.  Make  those  girls  shut  up.  Why,  what 
the  devil,  I  say!  one  would  think  a  lunatic  asylum  loose. 
You've  got  the  girl,  Jose?"  he  calls  across  as  the  corporal 
brings  Carmen  out.  "Bring  her  over,"  and  Zuniga 
starts  across  to  meet  them,  clattering  on  the  cobblestones 
with  his  high  heels. 

"  She  knifed  one  of  the  girls,  did  she?  All  right  — 
clap  her  into  jail.  You're  just  a  bit  too  ready  with  your 
hands,  my  girl,"  the  captain  cries  as  Jose  takes  her 
into  the  guard-house. 

Jose  is  set  to  guard  her;  which  is  about  as  wise  as 
setting  the  cream  where  the  cat  can  dip  her  whiskers. 

If  it  pleased  the  girl  a  moment  before  to  stab  a  com- 
panion, it  pleases  her  best  now  to  get  out  of  jail.  She 
begins  ably. 


Carmen 


79 


"I  love  you,"  she  remarks  to  Jose. 

"It  does  not  concern  me,"  replies  the  heroic  Jose. 

"It  should,"  Carmen  persists. 

"Ah!"  replies  Jose,  noncommittally.  This  is  un- 
satisfactory to  Carmen.  However,  she  is  equal  to  the 
occasion.  When  is  she  so  fascinating  as  when  quite 
preoccupied?  —she  will  try  it  now.     She  will  sing: 

'PP  e  leggiero. 


Near    to     the      walls    of         Se — vi! 


A .N- 


ig^^^ 


-la 


With     my    good       friend         Lil — laa 


Pas — t!a I'll     soon  dance  the     gay     Se — qui- 


n  ■*' 

A 

A 

A 

A 

A 

y  ^> 

N 

1 

. 

/^    t                      \'         '^ 

\ 

^ 

' 

f 'K     ■^          S           V 

^ 

^ 

s 

^^^                I 

\s\)               0         s 

* 

^5 

J                             :  '    1      »•"      • 

*  • 

t)     ^^  -^ 

9 

t-e- 

^.^.          9                N^^^ 



dil — la    And  I'll     drink  man — za — nil —     la — 


g^ 


:*;& 


-y,=^ 


-I'll  go      see  my  good  friend  Lil-las  Pas — tia! 


Jose  is  disturbed.  Carmen  is  conscious  of  it.  She 
continues  to  sing,  meanwhile  coquetting  with  him. 
Before  he  is  aware  of  his  own  mood,  he  has  cut  the  cord 
that  he  bound  her  hands  with,  and  has  disgraced  himself 


8o  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

forever.  In  the  fascination  Carmen  has  for  him,  he  has 
forgotten  that  he  is  a  soldier.  Presently  Zuniga  enters. 
Carmen  is  to  be  transferred  in  charge  of  Jose,  with  a 
guard  detailed  to  go  with  him.  It  is  arranged.  Carmen 
also  makes  some  arrangements. 

"When  we  have  started,  and  are  about  to  cross  the 
bridge,  I'll  give  you  a  push.  You  must  fall  —  you 
could  not  see  me  locked  up  —one  so  young  and  gay!  — 
and  when  you  fall  I  shall  run.  After  you  can  get  away, 
meet  me  at  Lillias  Pastia's  inn."  Jose  seems  to  himself 
to  be  doing  things  in  a  dream.  He  has  earned  a  court- 
martial  already  if  it  were  known  what  he  has  done.  A 
corporal's  guard  start  under  Jose;  the  bridge  is  reached. 
Carmen  makes  a  leap;  down  goes  Jose.  The  others  are 
taken  unawares  and  she  rushes  at  them.  They  too  fall, 
head  over  heels,  one  down  the  bank.  Carmen  is  up, 
and  off!  She  flies  up  the  path,  laughing  at  them  as  they 
pick  themselves  up. 

"This  is  a  good  business,  eh?"  Zuniga  sneers.  "On 
the  whole,  Don  Jose,  I  think  you  will  shine  rather  better 
under  lock  and  key,  in  the  guard-house,  than  you  will 
as  a  soldier  at  large.  Men,  arrest  him! "  he  orders 
sharply,  and  Jose  has  made  the  first  payment  on  the 
score  Fate  has  chalked  up  against  him. 

ACT  n 

Flying  to  Lillias  Pastia's  inn,  as  she  had  agreed  with 
Jose,  Carmen  is  joined  by  her  old  comrades  —  smugglers 
and  gipsy  girls,  chief  of  whom  are  Mercedes  and  Fras- 
quita.  It  is  late  at  night,  and  a  carouse  is  in  progress. 
Among  those  in  the  inn  is  Zuniga  himself.  As  a  matter 
of  truth,  he  has  fallen  in  love  with  Carmen  on  his  own 


Carmen  8i 

account,  and  has  kept  Jose  under  arrest  in  order  to  have 
him  out  of  the  way.  There  they  are,  all  together,  the 
gipsies  playing  on  guitars  and  tambourines.  The  girls 
are  mostly  dancing.  Carmen  is  coquetting  with  every 
man  present,  and  the  fun  becomes  a  riot,  so  that  the 
innkeeper  has  to  interfere. 

"It  is  so  late,  I've  got  to  close  up,"  he  says.  "You'll 
all  have  to  clear  out."  Zuniga  looks  at  Carmen.  He 
wants  to  have  a  talk  with  her. 

"Will  you  go  with  me?"  he  asks. 

"I've  no  good  reason  for  going  with  you,"  she  answers, 
tantalizingly. 

"Perhaps  you're  angry  because  I  have  locked  Jose 
up,"  Zuniga  suggests.  "If  you  will  make  yourself 
agreeable,  I  don't  mind  telling  you  I  have  had  him  set 
free." 

"What's  that?  Not  in  prison?"  she  asked.  "Well, 
that's  very  decent  of  you,  I'm  sure,"  she  sneers. 
"  Good-night,  gentlemen,  I'm  off!"  she  cries,  and  runs  out 
into  the  night.  Everybody  follows  her  but  Zuniga,  who 
knows  well  enough  he  cannot  trust  her.  They  have  no 
sooner  disappeared  than  Zuniga  hears  shouts  and  "hur- 
rahs" outside.     lie  runs  to  the  window  and  leans  out. 

"Hello!  They  are  going  to  have  a  torch-light  pro- 
cession, eh?"  and  he  leans  farther  out.  "By  the  great 
horn  spoon,"  he  presently  exclaims  —  or  something 
which  is  its  Spanish  equivalent,  "it's  that  bull-fighting 
fellow,  Escamillo,  who  won  that  fight  in  Granada! 
Hello,  out  there,  old  friend!  Come  in  here  and  have 
something  to  drink  with  me.  To  your  past  success 
and  to  your  future  glory!"  Motioning  to  the  bull- 
fighter outside,  Zuniga  goes  toward  the  door.  In  he 
comes,    this   Escamillo,   all   covered   with   the  glory  of 


82 


operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


having  killed  some  frisky  and  dangerous  bulls  —  with 
all  the  chances  against  the  bulls,  nevertheless.  Every- 
body else  enters  with  Escamillo  and  all  stand  ready  for 
refreshments  at  Zuniga's  expense.  Carmen  comes  back, 
and  of  course  is  to  be  found  in  the  thick  of  the  fun. 

"Rah,  rah,  rah!"  everybody  yells,  calling  a  toast  to 
the  bull-fighter,  who  is  dressed  up  till  he  looks  as  fine 
as  a  little  wagon.  The  toast  suits  him  perfectly  and  he 
says  so.  He  squares  himself  and  strikes  an  attitude 
of  grandeur  without  the  least  doubt  that  he  is  the  greatest 
thing  in  the  world,  and  while  he  is  singing  about  it,  half 
the  people  in  the  opera  house  are  likely  to  agree  with 
him.    Here  he  goes: 


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Tis         hoi  — i  — day,  the    dr— cus    full,    —      The 


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from      rim    to    floor: — 


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84 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


And      think  on    her,  on      her,  who  all  can    see: — 

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waits  for  thee,         To    -    re 


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fl       a  tempo. 


Love     waits,  love  waits      for        thee! 

While  Escamillo  is  singing  the  refrain  of  this  song  he 
is  about  the  most  self-satisfied  fellow  one  ever  saw.  He 
hasn't  the  slightest  doubt  about  himself  and  neither 
has  any  sensible  person  a  doubt  about  him;  but 
Carmen  is  not  a  sensible  person. 

The  bull-fighter  has  been  trying  the  same  trick  upon 
Carmen  that  she  tried  upon  Jose.  She  is  not  indifferent 
to  his  fascinations,  but  —  well,  there  is  trouble  coming 


Carmen  85 

her  way,  Escamillo's  way,  Jose's  way,  everybody's  way, 
but  it  is  some  comfort  to  know  that  they  all  more  or 
less  deserve  it. 

When  Escamillo  has  finished  singing  of  his  greatness, 
he  asks  Carmen  what  she  would  think  of  him  if  he  told 
her  he  loved  her,  and  for  once  in  a  way  she  is  quite  truth- 
ful.    She  tells  him  she  would  think  him  a  fool. 

"You  are  not  over-encouraging,  my  girl,  but  I  can 
wait,"  he  returns. 

"I  am  sure  there  is  no  harm  in  waiting,"  she  answers 
him. 

Now  Carmen's  familiar  friends,  the  smugglers,  have 
an  enterprise  in  hand,  and  it  has  been  their  habit  to  look 
to  Carmen,  Frasquita,  and  Mercedes  for  help  in  their 
smuggling.  When  they  find  an  opportunity,  they  ap- 
proach Carmen. 

"We  need  your  help  to-night." 

"Indeed I  well,  you  won't  get  it,"  she  declares. 

"What I  you  won't  attend  to  business?" 

"I  won't." 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  El  Dancairo,  chief  of  the 
smugglers,  demands. 

"If  you  particularly  want  to  know  —  why,  then,  I 
am  in  love  —  for  to-night  only,"  she  hastens  to  add,  as 
the  smugglers  stare  at  her  in  disgust. 

"Well,  we  wish  you  joy;  but  you'll  show  better 
sense  to  come  along  with  us.  If  you  wait  here,  your 
lover  is  likely  not  to  come,  and  you'll  lose  the  money 
in  the  bargain." 

When  any  sly  intrigue  is  weaving, 

Whether  for  thieving, 

Or  l'(jr  f!ecei\-ing, 

You  will  do  well  if  you  provide, 

To  have  a  woman  on  your  side  — 


86  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

they  sing  — which  shows  what  the  smugglers  think  of 
their  sisters  and  their  cousins  and  their  aunts. 

When  they  insist  upon  knowing  for  whom  Carmen  is 
going  to  wait  at  the  inn,  she  finally  tells  them  she  is 
waiting  for  Jose,  and  pretends  to  some  very  nice  senti- 
ments indeed,  on  his  account;  says  he  got  her  out  of 
prison,  has  been  locked  up  for  her  sake,  and  of  course 
she  must  treat  him  nicely. 

"Well,  all  we  have  to  say  about  it  is  that  you   had 

better  have  a  care.     Very  likely  he'll  not  come,  and " 

El  Dancairo  is  interrupted  by  a  song  in  the  hills.    It 
is  Jose's  voice  signalling  to  Carmen. 

"Think  not?"  she  asks,  nonchalantly. 

When  Jose  enters,  she  really  is  glad  to  see 
him:  he  is  very  handsome  indeed.  After  her  comrades 
have  gone  outside  the  inn,  she  tells  Jose  of  her  regret 
that  he  has  suffered  for  her,  and  starts  to  entertain 
him. 

There,  in  the  dingy  inn,  she  begins  a  wonderful  dance, 
shaking  her  castanets  and  making  herself  very  beautiful 
and  fascinating  once  more  to  Jose.  In  the  midst  of  the 
dance  they  hear  a  bugle  call.     Jose  starts  up. 

"Carmen,  it  is  my  squad  going  back  to  camp.  It 
is  the  retreat  that  has  sounded.    I  must  go." 

"Go?"  she  stares  at  him.  Then,  reaUzing  that  he 
is  going  to  desert  her  for  duty,  she  flies  into  a  rage,  throws 
his  shako  after  him  and  screams  at  him  to  go  and  not 
come  back.  This  puts  Jose  in  a  bad  way,  because  he 
has  been  able  to  think  of  nothing  but  Carmen  ever  since 
she  escaped  and  he  went  to  prison  in  her  place.  Mean- 
time, she  raves  about  the  inn,  declaring  that  he  doesn't 
love  her,  whereupon  he  takes  the  flower  she  once  threw 
him,  now  dead  and  scentless,  from  his  pocket,  and  shows 


Carmen  87 

it  to  her.  He  has  kept  it  safely  through  all  that  has 
happened  to  him. 

"That  is  all  very  well,  Don  Jose,  but  if  you  truly  loved 
me,  you  would  leave  this  soldiering  which  takes  you  away, 
and  go  live  with  me  and  my  companions  in  the  mountains. 

There,  there  is  no  law,  no  duties,  no "  Don  Jose 

nearly  faints  at  the  idea. 

"Disgrace  my  uniform!"  he  cries. 

"Let  your  uniform  go  hang,"  she  answers.  She  never 
was  any  too  choice  in  her  language.  Poor  Jose!  poor 
wretch!  he  buries  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  cries  several 
times,  "My  God!"  and  looks  so  distracted  that  one 
almost  believes  he  will  pull  himself  together,  take  his 
shako,  and  go  back  to  his  men.  Presently  he  decides 
that  he  will  go,  and  starts  toward  the  door,  when  there 
comes  a  knocking. 

"What's  that?"  he  whispers,  pausing;  but  almost  at 
the  moment,  Zuniga,  looking  for  Carmen,  opens  the  door. 

"Fie,  Carmen!  Is  this  your  taste?"  the  captain 
laughs,  pointing  to  Jose.  Jose  is  only  a  corporal,  while 
Zuniga,  l^eing  a  captain,  feels  in  a  corporal's  presence 
like  a  general  at  the  very  least. 

"Come  on,  get  out,"  he  demands  of  Jose. 

"No,"  Jose  answers.  "I  think  not,"  and  there  is  no 
doubt  he  means  it.  Then  the  men  begin  to  fight.  Car- 
men, desiring  to  have  one  of  them  to  torment,  throws 
herself  between  them.  Her  screams  bring  the  gipsies 
and  smugglers. 

"Seize  the  captain,"  she  cries,  and  Zuniga  is  seized 
and  tied.  He  roars  and  fumes  and  threatens,  but  the 
smugglers  carry  him  off.  This  puts  Jose  in  a  truly  bad 
way.  How  can  he  return  and  tell  Zuniga's  men  what  has 
happened?  and  then  when  Zuniga  is  free  he  will  be  tried 


88  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

by  court-martial  and  suffer  the  worst,  beyond  doubt. 
"Now  then,  Jos6.    What  about  it?    You  can't  go 

back  to  your  company,  eh?" 

"This  is  horrible,"  he  tells  her.     "I  am  a  ruined  man." 
"Then  come  with  us  and  make  the  best  of  it,"  she 

cries,  and  Fate  scores  again. 

ACT  in 

Disgraced,  there  is  nothing  left  for  Jos^  but  to  go 
away  to  the  smugglers'  retreat  in  the  mountains.  There, 
in  a  cave  looking  out  to  sea,  well  located  above  the  valley 
for  smuggling  operations,  all  the  gipsies  and  the  smug- 
glers, headed  by  El  Dancairo,  lie  waiting  for  the  hour 
when  they  can  go  out  without  being  caught.  There, 
too,  is  Don  Jose,  sitting  gloomily  apart,  cut  off  from  all 
that  is  good,  dishonoured  and  so  distressed  that  he  is 
no  longer  a  good  companion.  Carmen  looks  at  him, 
and  feels  angry  because  he  seems  to  be  indifferent  to  her. 

"What  do  you  see,  that  you  sit  staring  down  there 
into  the  valley?"  she  asks. 

"I  was  thinking  that  yonder  is  living  a  good,  indus- 
trious old  woman,  who  thinks  me  a  man  of  honour,  but 
she  is  wrong,  alas!" 

"And  who  is  this  good  old  woman,  pray?"  Carmen 
sneers. 

"If  you  love  me  do  not  speak  thus,"  he  returns,  "for 
she  is  my  mother."  ^ 

"Ah,  indeed!  Well,  I  think  you  need  her.  I  advise 
you  to  return  to  her."  Don  Jose  needed  her  more  than 
he  knew. 

"And  if  I  went  back  —  what  about  you?" 

"Me?  What  about  me,  pray?  I  stay  where  I  belong 
—  with  my  friends." 


Carmen  89 

"Then  you  expect  me  to  give  you  up,  for  whom  I 
have  lost  all  that  I  had  in  life!"  Realizing  that  he 
has  given  so  much  for  so  little,  his  bitterness  becomes 
uncontrollable,  and  though  he  says  nothing.  Carmen 
surprises  a  horrid  look  on  his  face. 

"You'll  be  committing  murder  next,  if  you  look  like 
that,"  she  laughs.  "Well,  you  are  not  very  good  com- 
pany. Hello,  there !  Mercedes,  Frasquita  —  anybody 
instead  of  this  fool  —  let's  amuse  ourselves.  Get  the 
cards.  Let  us  tell  our  fortunes,  eh?"  The  three  girls 
gather  about  the  table;  the  other  two  shuffle  and  cut. 
The  cards  turn  out  well  for  them.  Carmen  watches 
them.  After  a  moment  she  reaches  for  the  pack.  She 
is  very  nonchalant  about  it,  and  glances  at  Jose  as  she 
shuffles  the  cards.  Then  she  sits  half  upon  the  table 
and  cuts.  A  glance!  a  moment  of  sudden  fear!  she  has 
cut  death  for  herself!  The  blow  has  come  to  her  in  her 
most  reckless  moment.  After  an  instant's  pause  she 
sings  with  a  simple  fatalism  in  voice  and  manner: 

In  vain  to  shun  the  answer  that  we  dread. 

She  cuts  the  cards  again  and  yet  again.  Still  her  dreadful 
fate  appears. 

"There  is  no  hope,"  she  murmurs  to  herself,  as  El 
Dancairo  starts  up  and  cries: 

'"Tis   time  to  be  off.     The  way  is  clear.      Come." 

The  others,  headed  by  Remendado  and  El  Dancairo, 
file  down  the  path,  leaving  Don  Jose  alone  in  the  cave. 
It  is  a  dismal  scene:  the  loneliness  of  Jose,  the  menace 
of  death  in  the  air!  , 

While  Jose  sits  with  bowed  head,  a  girl's  figure  rises 
behind  the  rocks,  and  almost  at  the  same  moment  there 
appears  the  form  of  a  man,  as  well.     Jose  hears  the  roll- 


90  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

ing  of  the  stones  beneath  their  feet  and  starts  up,  musket 
in  hand.  Just  as  he  rises,  he  sees  the  man's  head.  The 
girl  cries  out  as  he  fires  upon  the  man,  and  misses  him; 
then  she  crouches  down  behind  the  rock.  It  is  Michaela, 
come  to  find  Jose  wherever  he  may  be.  She  knows  of 
his  disgrace;  it  is  killing  his  mother.  The  lonely  old 
woman  is  dying.  Michaela  has  come  to  fetch  him,  if 
he  has  not  lost  all  memory  of  gentler  hours.  As  Jose 
fires,  the  man  shouts. 

"Hey,  there!  what  are  you  about?" 

"What  are  you  about?     What  do  you  want  up  here?" 

"If  you  were  not  so  ready  with  your  gun,  my  friend, 
you  are  more  likely  to  find  out.  I'm  Escamillo  the 
Toreador." 

"Oh,  well,  then  come  up.  I  know  you  and  you  are 
welcome  enough,  but  you  run  a  fearful  risk,  let  me  tell 
you.  You  haven't  sought  very  good  company,  I 
suppose  you  know." 

"I  don't  care  particularly;  because,  my  friend,  I  am 
in  love,  if  you  want  to  know." 

"Do  you  expect  to  find  her  here?" 

"I  am  looking  for  her,"  Escamillo  returns,  complai- 
santly. 

"These  women  are  all  gipsies." 

"Good  enough:  so  is  Carmen." 

"Carmen!"  Jose  cries,  his  heart  seeming  to  miss  a  beat. 

"That's  her  name.  She  had  a  lover  up  here  — a 
soldier  who  deserted  from  his  troop  to  join  her  —  but 
that's  past  history.  It's  all  up  with  him  now."  Jose 
listens  and  tries  not  to  betray  himself. 

"Do  you  know  that  when  a  rival  tries  to  take  a  gipsy 
girl  from  her  lover  there  is  a  price  to  pay? "  he  tries  to 
ask  with  some  show  of  tranquillity. 


Carmen  91 

"Very  well,  I  am  ready." 

"A  knife  thrust,  you  understand,"  Jose  mutters, 
unable  to  hide  his  emotion.  He  hates  Escamillo  so 
much  that  he  is  about  to  spring  upon  him. 

"Ho,  ho!  From  your  manner,  I  fancy  you  are  that 
fine  deserter.  You  want  to  fight?  Good!  I  fight  bulls 
for  pleasure;  you  used  to  fight  men  for  business.  Evenly 
matched.  Have  at  it,"  and  the  men  fall  to  fighting. 
The  fight  grows  hotter  and  hotter.  Escamillo's  knife 
suddenly  snaps  off  short.  Jose  is  about  to  kill  him  when 
Carmen  and  the  men  are  heard  running  back.  They 
have  encountered  some  one  in  the  valley  below  and  have 
returned  just  in  time  to  interrupt  the  quarrel. 

"Jose,"  she  screams,  and  holds  his  arm.  Then  he 
is  set  upon  by  the  others  and  held  in  check.  Escamillo 
throws  his  arms  about  Carmen  and  taunts  the  helpless 
fellow.     Jose  rages. 

"I'm  off,  my  fine  dragoon,"  he  cries,  "but  if  you  love 
me  you  will  all  come  to  the  bull  fight  next  week  at  Seville. 
Come,  my  friend,"  to  Jose,  "and  see  what  a  really  good 
looking  fellow  is  like,"  he  taunts,  looking  gaily  at  Car- 
men. He  goes  off,  down  the  path,  while  Jose  is  strug- 
gling to  free  himself,  and  at  that  moment,  Michaela, 
nearly  dead  with  fright,  falls  upon  the  rock,  and  is 
heard  by  the  men.  El  Remcndado  hears  her  and  runs 
out.     He  returns  bringing  the  young  girl  with  him. 

"Michaela!"  Jose  calls. 

"Jose!  your  mother  is  dying.  I  have  come  for  you. 
For  God's  sake " 

"i\Iy  mother  dying,"  he  shakes  off  the  men.  Then 
the  voice  of  Escamillo  is  heard  far  down  the  mountain 
singing  back  at  Carmen  the  Toreador's  song.  Carmen 
rushes  for  the  entrance  to  the  cave.     She  will  follow 


92  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Escamillo.    Jose  goes  wild    with    rage.    He    bars    the 
entrance. 

"My  mother  is  dying.  I  am  going  to  her  —  but  your 
time  too  has  come,"  he  swears,  looking  at  Carmen.  "I 
have  lost  friends,  honour,  and  now  my  mother  for  you, 
and  I  swear  you  shall  reckon  with  me  for  all  this  wrong. 
When  we  meet  again,  I  shall  kill  you,"  and  he  disappears 
behind  the  rocks  with  Michaela. 


ACT   IV 


Back  in  gay  Seville,  not  near  to  its  cigarette  factory 
and  the  guard-house,  but  at  the  scene  of  the  great  bull- 
fight, where  Escamillo  is  to  strut  and  show  what  a  famous 
fellow  he  deserves  to  be!  The  old  amphitheatre  at  the 
back  with  its  awning  stretched,  the  foreground  with  its 
orange-girls,  fan-girls,  wine-pedlars,  ragged  idlers  and 
beggars,  fine  gentlemen,  mules  —  all  eager  for  the  enter- 
tainment! Escamillo  is  the  man  who  kills  bulls  and 
makes  love  to  all  the  pretty  girls  he  sees.  Everybody 
wants  to  get  a  peep  at  him.  The  air  is  full  of  excitement. 
Everybody,  wine -sellers,  orange-girls,  all  dance  and  twirl 
about,  and  donkeys'  bells  tinkle,  and  some  are  eating, 
and  some  are  drinking.  The  Alcalde  is  to  attend,  and  all 
the  fine  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  Seville.  Here  comes 
Zuniga. 

"Here,  bring  me  some  oranges,"  he  orders,  in  his  old 
at-least-a-general  fashion.  The  smugglers  had  let  him 
loose,  of  course,  as  soon  as  Carmen  and  Jose  had  got 
away  from  Lillias  Pastia's  inn,  that  night.  He  sits  to 
eat  his  oranges  and  to  watch  the  gradually  assembling 
crowd.  Frasquita  and  Mercedes  are  on  hand,  and  there 
is  a  fair  sprinkling  of  smugglers  and  other  gipsies. 

"Here  they  come,  here  they  come!"  some  one  cries, 


Carmen 


93 


and  almost  at  once  the  beginning  of  the  bull-fighting 
procession  appears.  First  the  cuadrilla,  then  the  algua- 
zil,  chulos,  banderilleros  —  all  covered  with  spangles 
and  gold  lace;  and  the  picadors  with  their  pointed 
lances  with  which  to  goad  the  bull.  Every  division  in 
a  different  colour,  and  everybody  fixed  for  a  good  time, 
except  the  bull,  perhaps.  After  all  these  chromo  gentle- 
men have  had  a  chance  at  him,  Escamillo  will  courageous- 
ly step  up  and  kill  him.  Yes,  Spain  is  all  ready  for  a 
good  time!     Now  at  last   comes  Escamillo. 

"Viva  Escamillo!"  If  one  ever  saw  a  beauty-man, 
he  is  one!  He  might  as  well  have  been  a  woman,  he  is 
so  good-looking.  He  has  a  most  beautiful  love  song 
with  Carmen,  who  of  course  is  in  the  very  midst  of  the 
excitement,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  song,  the  great 
Alcalde  arrives.  Nobody  wants  to  see  the  bull-fight 
more  than  he  does.  He  was  brought  up  on  bull-fights. 
His  entrance  makes  a  new  sensation. 

In  the  midst  of  the  hurly-burly  Frasquita  forces  her 
way  to  Carmen. 

"You  want  to  get  away  from  here.  I  have  seen  Don 
Jose  in  this  crowd.  If  he  finds  you  there  will  be  trou- 
ble   " 

"For  him  maybe."  Carmen  returns,  insolently  look- 
ing about  to  see  if  she  can  espy  Jose.  The  girls 
urge  her  not  to  go  too  far;  to  keep  out  of  Jose's  way, 
but  she  refuses  point  blank. 

"Leave  the  fight  and  Escamillo?  Not  for  twenty 
Joses.  Here  I  am,  and  here  I  stay,"  she  declares.  Every- 
body but  Carmen  thinks  of  the  fortune  in  the  cave: 
death,  death,  death!  But  gradually  the  great  crowd 
passes  into  the  amphitheatre,  and  Carmen  has  promised 
Escamillo  to  await  him  when  he  shall  come  out  triumph- 


94  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

ant;  and  Escamillo  has  no  sooner  bade  Carmen  good-bye 
than  Jose  swings  into  the  square  in  search  of  Carmen. 

Carmen  sees  him  and  watches  him.  He  does  not  look 
angry.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  has  gone  through  so  much 
sorrow  (the  death  of  his  mother,  and  the  jeers  of  his 
friends)  that  he  has  sought  Carmen  only  with  tenderness 
in  his  heart.    He  now  goes  up  to  her  and  tells  her  this. 

"Indeed,  I  thought  you  had  come  to  murder  me." 
.  "I  have  come  to  take  you  away  from  these  gipsies 
and  smugglers.  If  you  are  apart  from  them  you  will 
do  better.  I  love  you  and  want  you  to  go  away  from 
here,  and  together  we  will  begin  over  and  try  to  do  better." 
Carmen  looks  at  him  and  laughs.  Suddenly  she  hears 
cheering  from  the  amphitheatre  and  starts  toward  it. 
Jose  interposes, 

"You  let  me  alone.     I  want  to  go  in " 

"To  see  Escamillo " 

"Why  not  —  since  I  love  him " 

"How  is  that?" 

"As  I  said "  At  this,  a  blind  rage  takes  possession 

of  Don  Jose.  All  his  good  purposes  are  forgotten.  For 
a  moment  he  still  pleads  with  her  to  go  away,  and  she 
taunts  him  more  cruelly.  Then  in  a  flash  Jose's  knife 
is  drawn,  another  flash  and  Carmen's  fortune  is 
verified:  she  falls  dead  at  the  entrance  to  the  amphi- 
theatre, just  as  the  crowd  is  coming  out,  cheering  the 
victorious  Escamillo.  Jose  falls  beside  her,  nearly  mad 
with  grief  for  what  he  has  done  in  a  fit  of  rage,  while 
Escamillo  comes  out,  already  fascinated  by  some  other 
ghl,  and  caring  little  that  Carmen  is  dead  —  except  that 
the  body  is  in  the  way.  Jose  is  under  arrest.  Carmen 
dead,  and  the  great  crowd  passes  on,  cheering: 
"Escamillo,  Escamillo  forever!" 


DeKOVEN 

SMITH  and  DeKoven,  who  have  made  countless 
thousands  laugh,  are  living  still,  and  will  very 
likely  continue  to  do  gracious  things  for  the  comic-opera- 
loving  public. 

The  very  imperfect  sketch  of  the  opera,  "Robin  Hood," 
given  in  this  book,  is  lacking  in  coherence  and  in  com- 
pleteness in  every  way,  but  a  prompt-book, being  neces- 
sary properly  to  give  the  story,  is  not  obtainable.  Rather 
than  ignore  an  American  performance  which  is  so  grace- 
ful, so  elegant,  and  v;hich  should  certainly  be  known  to 
every  child,  an  attempt  had  been  made  to  outline  the 
story. 

Little  idea  can  be  had  of  the  opera's  charm  from  tliis 
sketch,  but  the  opera  is  likely  to  live,  even  after  the  topi- 
cal stories  of  ''Pinafore"  and  "The  Mikado"  have  lost 
their  ap[)]ication,  because  the  story  of  Robin  Hood  is 
romantic  forever,  and  the  DeKoven  music  is  not  likely 
to  lose  its  charm. 

"Robin  Hood"  was  first  produced  at  the  Chicago 
Opera  House,  June  9,  1890,  by  the  Bostonian  Opera 
Company.  In  January,  1S91,  under  the  management 
of  Mr.  Horace  Sedger,  the  opera  was  produced,  mider 
the  title  of  "Maid  Marian,"  at  the  Prince  of  Wales's 
Theatre  in  London.  The  cast  included  Mr.  Haydn  Coffin, 
Mr.  Harry  Markham,  Miss  Marion  Manola,  and  Miss 
Violet  Cameron. 

95 


96               Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 
ROBIN  HOOD 

CHARACTERS   OF  THE  OPERA 

Robin  Hood Edwin  H.  Hoff 

Little  John W.  H.  Macdonald 

Scarlet Eugene  Cowles 

Friar  Tuck George  Frothingham 

Alan-a-Dale Jessie  Bartlett  Davis 

Sheriff  of  Nottingham H.  C.  Barnabee 

Sir  Guy Peter  Lang 

Maid  Marian Marie  Stone 

Annabel Carlotta  Maconda 

Dame  Durden Josephine  Bartlett 

ACT  I 


In  Sherwood  forest,  the  merriest  of  lives. 

Is  our  outlaw's  life  so  free! 
We  roam  and  rove  in  Sherwood's  grove, 

Beneath  the  greenwood  tree. 
Through  all  the  glades  and  sylvan  shades 

Our  homes  (through  the  glades)  are  found; 
We  hunt  the  deer,  afar  and  near, 

Our  hunting  horns  do  we  sound. 

And  thus  begins  the  merriest  tale  of  the  merriest  lives 
imaginable.  It  is  on  a  May  morning:  every  young  sprint 
and  his  sweetheart  in  Nottingham  are  out  in  their  best, 
for  the  fair  —  May-day  fair  in  Nottingham;  and  near 
at  hand,  Alan-a-Dale,  Little  John,  Will  Scarlet,  Friar 
Tuck,  and  the  finest  company  of  outlaws  ever  told  about, 
are  just  entering  the  town  to  add  to  the  gaiety. 

Now  in  the  village  of  Nottingham  lived  Dame  Dur- 
den and  her  daughter,  Annabel.  Annabel  was  a  flirta- 
tious young  woman  who  welcomed  the  outlaws  in  her 
very  best  manner.  She  assured  them  that  outlaws  of 
such  high  position  would  surely  add  much  to  the  happi- 
ness of  the  occasion;  and  they  certainly  did,  before  the 
day  was  over.    The  outlaws  came  in,  as  fine  a  looking 


Robin  Hood 


97 


lot  and  as  handsome  as  one  would  wish  to  see,  and 
joined  the  village  dance.  It  was  an  old  English  dance, 
called  a  "Morris  Dance,"  with  a  lilt  and  a  tUt  which 
set  all  feet  a-going. 

ff  Allegro  vivace. 


Sn 


Fa     la, 


fa       la,    Trip  a    morris — dance  hi- 


g 


¥ 


^—MZ 


=t 


la ri ous,    Lightly 


brightly,       Trip  in    meas- 


e 


?^^ 


w- 


ure       muJ— ti fa- 


Dus,      Fa        la 


la, 


m 


¥ 


fa      la      la,    Trip  a    mor-ris  dance  hi — -lar i — ous, 


:^=i^ 


-/^^—* 


-0 — • 


-» 8^ 


-5^ 


Lightly  and     brightly  we    eel — e— brate  the    fair  I 


If  anything  was  needed  to  add  to  the  gaiety  of  the  day, 
the  outlaws  furnished  it,  because,  among  other  things, 
they  brought  to  the  fair  a  lot  of  goods  belonging  to  other 
people,  and  they  meant  to  put  them  up  at  auction. 

Friar  Tuck  was  an  old  renegade  monk  who  travelled 
about  with  the  merry  men  of  Sherwood,  to  seem  to  lend 
a  httle  piety  to  their  doings.  He  had  a  little  bottle- 
shaped  belly  and  the  dirtiest  face  possible,  a  tonsured 
head,  and  he  wore  a  long  brown  habit  tied  round  the  mid- 


qS  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

die  with  a  piece  of  rope  which  did  duty  for  several  things 
besides  tying  this  gown.  He  was  a  droll,  jolly  little  bad 
man  and  he  began  the  auction  with  mock  piety: 

As  an  honest  auctioneer, 
I'm  prepared  to  sell  you  here 

Some  goods  in  an  assortment  that  is  various; 
Here's  a  late  lamented  deer 
(That  was  once  a  King's,  I  fear) 

Killing  him  was  certainly  precarious. 

Here  I  have  for  sale 

Casks  of  brown  October  ale. 

Brewed  to  make  humanity  hilarious; 
Here's  a  suit  of  homespun  brave 
Fit  for  honest  man  or  knave; 

Here's  a  stock  in  fact  that's  multifarious. 

and  so  it  was! 

His  stock  consisted  of  the  most  curious  assortment  of 
plimder  one  ever  saw  even  at  a  Nottingham  fair  in  the 
outlaw  days  of  Robin  Hood. 

While  all  that  tow-wow  was  going  on,  people  were 
coming  in  droves  to  the  fair;  and  among  them  came  Rob- 
ert of  Huntingdon.  The  name  is  very  thrilling,  since  the 
first  part  gives  one  an  inkling  that  he  beholds  for  the  first 
time  the  future  Robin  Hood.  However,  on  that  May 
morning  he  was  not  yet  an  outlaw.  He  was  a  simple 
Knight  of  the  Shire. 

The  Sheriff,  who  was  a  great  personage  in  Notting- 
ham, had  a  ward  whom  he  had  foisted  upon  the  good 
folks  of  Nottinghamshire  as  an  Earl,  but  as  a  fact  he 
was  simply  a  country  lout,  and  all  the  teachings  of  the 
Sheriff  would  not  make  him  appear  anything  different. 
Robert  of  Huntingdon  was  the  Earl,  in  fact,  and  the 
Sheriff  was  going  to  try  to  keep  him  out  of  his  title 
and  estates.  The  merry  men  of  Sherwood  forest  were 
great  favourites  with  Robert  and  they  were  his  friends. 


Robin  Hood  99 

During  the  fair  a  fine  cavalier,  very  dainty  for  a  man, 
fascinating,  was  caught  by  Friar  Tuck  kissing  a  girl, 
and  was  brought  in  with  a  great  to-do.  She  declared 
that  she  had  a  right  to  kiss  a  pretty  girl,  since  her  busi- 
ness was  that  of  cavalier.  Robin  Hood  discovered 
her  sex,  underneath  her  disguise,  and  began  to  make 
love  to  her. 

Among  other  reasons  for  Robin  Hood  being  at  the  fair 
was  that  of  making  the  Sheriff  confer  upon  him  his  title 
to  the  Earldom.  When  he  boldly  made  his  demand, 
the  foxy  Sheriff  declared  that  he  had  a  half-brother 
brought  up  by  him,  and  that  the  half-brother,  and  not 
Robert,  was  the  Earl. 

"You  are  a  vain,  presumptuous  youth,"  the  Sheriff 
declared.  ''You  are  no  Earl,  instead  it  is  this  lovely 
youth  whom  I  have  brought  up  so  carefully."  And  he 
put  forth  Guy,  the  bumpkin.  This  created  an  awful 
stir,  and  all  the  outlaws  who  were  fond  of  Robin  Hood 
took  up  the  case  for  him. 

"A  nice  sort  of  Earl,  that,"  Little  John  cried. 

"You  think  we  will  acknov/Iedge  him  as  heir  to  the 
estates  of  Huntingdon?     Never!"     Scarlet  declared. 

"Traitor!"  Robin  Hood  cried  to  the  Sheriff.  "In 
the  absence  of  the  King  I  know  that  your  word  is  law; 
but  wait  till  the  King  returns  from  his  Crusade!  I'll 
show  you  then  whose  word  is  to  prevail." 

"My  friend!"  Little  John  then  cried,  stepping  into 
the  middle  of  the  row,  "take  thou  this  good  stout  bow 
of  yew.  You  are  going  to  join  us  and  make  one  of  Sher- 
wood's merry  men  till  his  Majesty  returns  and  rein- 
stales  you  as  the  rightful  Earl  of  Huntingdon.  Come! 
Say  you  will  be  one  of  us."  All  the  outlaws  crowded 
affectionately  about  Robert  and  urged  him. 


lOO  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"You  shall  become  King  of  Outlaws,  if  you  will," 
Scarlet  cried.  "Come!  accept  our  friendship.  Be- 
come our  outlaw  king!" 

After  thinking  a  moment,  Robert  turned  and  looked  at 
the  gay  cavalier  whom  he  knew  to  be  his  cousin  Ma- 
rian, in  masquerade,  and  whom  he  loved.  Then  he  de- 
cided he  would  go  and  live  a  gay  and  roving  life  in  the 
forest  till  he  could  return  and  marry  his  cousin  as  the 
Earl  of  Huntingdon  should. 

"Farewell,"  he  sang  to  her.  "Farewell,  till  we  meet 
again,"  and  he  was  carried  off  amid  the  uproarious  wel- 
come of  the  outlaws  of  Sherwood  forest,  to  become  their 
leader  till  the  King  returned  from  the  Crusades  to  make 
him  Earl. 

ACT  n 

Away  in  Sherwood  forest  the  outlaws  were  encamped 
—  which  meant  merely  the  building  of  a  fire  and  the 
assembling  of  the  merry  men.  Robin  Hood  had  become 
their  leader. 

Oh,  cheerily  soundeth  the  hunter's  horn, 

Its  clarion  blast  so  fine; 
Through  depths  of  old  Sherwood  so  clearly  borne, 
We  hear  it  at  eve  and  at  break  of  morn, 
Of  Robin  Hood's  band  the  sign. 
A  hunting  we  will  go, 

Tra-ra-ra-tra-ra! 
We'll  chase  for  the  roe, 
Tra-ra-ra-tra-ra! 
Oh  where  is  band  so  jolly 

As  Robin's  band  in  their  Lincohi  green? 
Their  life  is  naught  but  folly, 
A  rollicking  life  I  ween! 

Now  the  merry  men  gathered  about  their  fire,  and 
while  the  old  monk  was  broiling  the  meat,  they  all  lounged 


Robin  Hood  loi 

about  in  comfortable  ways  and   Little  John    sang    to 
them: 

And  it's  will  ye  quaff  with  me,  my  lads, 

And  it's  will  ye  quaff  with  me? 
It  is  a  draught  of  nut-brown  ale 

I  offer  unto  ye.  ' 

All  humming  in  the  tankard,  lads, 

It  cheers  the  heart  forlorn; 
Oh!  here's  a  friend  to  everyone, 

'Tis  stout  John  Barley-corn.    , 

So  laugh,  lads,  and  quaff,  lads! 

'Twill  make  you  stout  and  hale, 
Through  all  my  days  I'll  sing  the  praise 

Of  brown  October  ale! 

While  the  outlaws  were  lounging  thus,  in  came  the  Sher- 
iff, Sir  Guy,  the  spurious  Earl,  and  a  lot  of  journeymen 
tinkers.  Immediately  they  began  a  gay  chorus,  telling 
how  they  were  men  of  such  metal  that  no  can  or  kettle  can 
withstand  their  attack,  and  as  they  hammered  upon  their 
tin  pans,  one  believed  them.  Of  all  the  merriment  and 
nonsense  that  ever  was,  the  most  infectious  took  place 
there  in  the  forest,  while  the  tinkers  sang  and  hammered, 
and  Friar  Tuck  made  jokes,  and  the  other  outlaws  drank 
their  brown  October  ale:  but  soon  Maid  Marian,  the 
dainty  cavalier,  wandered  that  way,  looking  for  Robin 
Hood  —  Robert  of  Huntingdon.  She  had  missed  him 
dreadfully,  and  finally  could  not  refrain  from  going  in 
search  of  him.  She  was  certain  she  should  find  him 
thinking  of  her  and  as  true  to  her  as  she  was  to  him. 

Robin  Hood  found  that  she  had  come  to  the  forest,  and 
sang  to  her  a  serenade  which  was  overheard  by  the  other 
outlaws.  Alan-a-Dale,  who  was  in  love,  became  jealous, 
and  the  Sheriff  came  on  to  the  scene,  and  the  outlaws, 
finding  him  on  their  ground,  took  him  prisoner,  and 
Dame  Durden,    who  secretly  had  been  married  to  the 


I02  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Sherifif,  and  from  whose  shrewish  tongue  the  Sheriff  had 
fled,  came  to  free  him.  She  declared  that  if  the  Sheriff 
of  Nottingham  would  acknowledge  her,  she  would  get  him 
free  from  the  stocks,  into  which  the  outlaws  had  put 
him,  and  would  take  him  home.  But  the  prospect  of 
having  to  stand  Dame  Burden's  tongue  was  so  much 
worse  than  the  stocks,  that  the  Sheriff  begged  the  outlaws 
to  take  him  anywhere  so  long  as  it  was  away  from  his 
wife. 

Woman,  get  thee  gone, 
I'd  rather  live  alone! 

If  Guy  should  come  with  the  King's  men, 

I'd  turn  the  tables  on  them. 

the  Sheriff  cried,  trying  to  plan  a  way  to  get  free. 

At  that  all  the  outlaws  danced  gaily  about  him,  gibing 
at  him  and  making  the  pompous  Sheriff  miserable.  They 
were  trying  to  pay  him  for  his  mistreatment  of  Robin 
Hood,  their  beloved  leader. 

In  the  height  of  their  gaiety  in  rushed  Sir  Guy  with 
the  Kling's  men. 

"We're  lost,"  all  cried. 

"You  are,"  Sir  Guy  recklessly  shouts,  "because  we're 
brave  as  lions,  all  of  us,  and  shall  make  short  work  of 
you." 

We're  brave  as  lions,  every  one, 

We're  brave  as  lions  —  for  we're  two  to  one, 

all  cried,  and  immediately  they  marched  the  gay  outlaws 
off  to  prison  and  set  the  Sheriff  free. 

As  it  turned  out.  Maid  Marian,  the  cousin  and  beloved 
of  Robin  Hood,  had  been  commanded  by  the  King  him- 
self to  become  Robin's  wife,  or  rather  the  wife  of  the 
Earl  of  Huntingdon.  As  the  false  Earl,  Guy  had  tried 
to  make  love  to  the  maid,  and  to  win  her,  but  the  cousins 


Robin  Hood  103 

loved  each  other,  and  all  Guy's  efforts  were  quite  hope- 
less. But  now  that  the  outlaws,  and  Robin  Hood  with 
them,  were  all  in  the  power  of  the  Sheriff  again,  the  case 
looked  serious.  As  outlaws,  the  Sheriff  could  hang 
them,  every  one.  Little  John  and  the  leading  outlaws 
pleaded  for  their  friend,  reminding  the  Sheriff  and  Sir 
Guy  that,  since  Robin  must,  by  the  King's  command, 
marry  Marian,  the  Sheriff  dare  not  kill  him. 

"  Don't  count  upon  that,"  the  wily  Sheriff  cried 
"The  King's  command  was  to  the  Earl  of  Himtingdon  — 
and  he  is  my  ward,  Sir  Guy;  not  your  outlaw  friend! 
Robin  Hood  shall  go  to  the  gallows  and  Guy  shall  marry 
the  Maid  Marian."  At  that  everybody  sighed  very 
sadly.  It  really  began  to  look  as  if  the  wicked  Sheriff 
was  going  to  get  the  best  of  them. 

ACT  in 

Among  the  outlaws,  the  strongest  and  also  the  clever- 
est, perhaps,  was  Will  Scarlet.  He  had  not  been  cap- 
tured with  the  others  of  the  band,  and  so  he  had  come  in- 
to Nottingham,  whence  the  prisoners  had  been  taken,  to 
spy  out  the  ground  and  to  see  if  he  could  not  help  to  free 
his  comrades.  He  had  set  up  a  blacksmith's  shop  and 
had  set  about  forging  a  sword.  All  the  while  he  was 
watching  what  took  place  about  him,  and  hoping  to  get 
news  of  his  friends. 

Friar  Tuck  was  finally  discovered  locked  up  in  a  tower, 
and  with  his  dirty  face  at  the  window.  It  would  have 
been  a  shame  for  so  dirty  and  merry  a  gentleman  as  the 
Friar  to  have  his  life  cut  short,  and  of  course  he  was  freed, 
but  before  this  happened  he  had  plenty  of  chance  to  get 
scared  half  to  death. 


104  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

At  the  very  moment  when  Maid  Marian  was  distracted 
because  she  feared  that  her  lover,  Robin  Hood,  was  to  be 
led  to  the  gallows,  a  message  came  from  the  King,  par- 
doning all  of  the  outlaws.  Some  one  had  revealed  to  his 
Majesty  the  doings  of  the  Sheriff,  and  the  King  had 
hastened  to  look  into  matters.  When  everybody's  life 
seemed  to  be  in  danger,  the  King  rushed  back  from  the 
Crusades  and  saved  them  all,  and  put  the  temporary  out- 
law into  his  rightful  place,  and  forgave  all  the  other 
merry  men  because  they  had  befriended  Robert  of 
Huntingdon. 

In  the  midst  of  the  rejoicing,  Robin  bade  the  foresters 
farewell,  clasped  his  cousin  in  his  arms,  the  Sheriff  was 
properly  pimished,  and  the  merriest  of  operas  came  to 
an  end. 


FLOTOW 

THERE  has  never  been  more  uncertainty  and  dis- 
agreement about  the  production,  composition,  and 
source  of  any  opera  than  about  the  opera  of  "Martha." 
Among  the  reasonable  guesses  as  to  its  source  is  one  that 
Flotow  found  the  theme  for  the  story  in  a  French  ballet 
named  "Lady  Henriette,  ou  la  Foire  de  Richmond." 
also,  "Lady  Harriette,  ou  la  Servante  de  Greenwich." 
Among  the  German  titles  we  find  "Martha,  oder  der 
Markt  zu  Richmond,"  and  "Martha,  oder  der  Magde- 
markt  zu  Richmond."  When  all  is  said  and  done,  it  is 
still  a  German  opera. 

Flotow  belonged  to  the  petty  nobility  of  Mecklenburg. 
He  was  destined  for  the  diplomatic  profession  and  his 
art  work  was  continually  interrupted  by  revolutions  in 
his  own  country  and  in  France. 

He  had  already  written  a  number  of  unimportant 
pieces  before  he  undertook  "Martha."  This  opera  was 
made  under  particularly  interesting  circumstances,  being 
originally  the  work  of  three  composers.  The  Marquis 
Saint-Georges  —  the  librettist  of  the  day  —  asked  Flo- 
tow to  undertake  the  music  of  one  act  only,  as  the  other 
two  had  already  been  assigned  to  two  different  compos- 
ers. This  proved  to  be  on  account  of  a  contract 
made  by  the  manager  of  the  Grand  Opera  with  the  French 
Government  to  produce  a  new  ballet  in  three  acts  every 
year  —  and  the  Marquis  had  tried  to  evade  the  contract 
on  the  ground  that  it  would  bankrupt  him.  The  manager's 

I  OS 


io6  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Premiere  heard  of  this  appeal,  and  she  in  her  turn  went 
to  headquarters,  asking  that  the  manager  be  compelled 
to  put  on  the  piece  as  agreed.  The  next  day  he  received 
an  ofifer  of  100,000  francs  to  mount  the  new  ballet  if  he 
would  put  the  dancer,  Mile.  Dumilatre,  into  the  leading 
part,  and  do  it  in  an  incredibly  short  time.  This  was 
how  three  composers  brought  into  being  the  piece  that 
one  day  was  to  become  the  "Martha"  with  which  we 
are  now  familiar.  After  Flotow  had  written  "Stradella" 
he  was  asked  to  write  an  opera  for  the  court,  and  re- 
membering the  peculiarly  carpentered  piece,  "Martha," 
he  went  to  Saint-Georges's  ballet  for  his  court-opera 
theme.    When  finished  it  was  "Martha." 

The  librettist  for  "Martha"  and  another  Flotow 
piece  was  Reise,  but  he  wrote  under  the  name  of  W. 
Friedrich.  Balfe  used  the  story  for  an  opera  which  he 
called  "The  Maid  of  Honour."  The  opera  was  about 
ten  years  in  gaining  popularity  outside  of  Germany.  It 
was  perhaps  somewhat  longer  than  that  in  reaching  Paris 
and  London.  It  was  known  in  New  York,  having  been 
presented  at  Niblo's  Garden,  before  it  was  known  in 
Paris  or  London,  and  Madame  Anna  Bishop  sang  it. 
The  great  singers  who  have  appeared  in  the  cast  are 
Anna  Bishop,  Mario,  Lehman,  Nilsson,  Patti,  Brignoli, 
and  others. 

Flotow's  best  claim  to  distinction  lies  in  this  opera  of 
"Martha."  He  was  not  a  special  favourite  nor  a  genius, 
but  in  "Martha"  he  turned  out  a  number  of  fascinaring 
tunes  of  a  humable  sort.  One  of  them  has  been  adapt- 
ed to  sacred  words,  and  is  much  used  in  chiu-ches,  but 
for  the  most  part  "Martha"  is  made  of  a  series  of  jiggy 
choruses.  Beriioz,  who  especially  hated  Flotow,  de- 
clared that  the  "introduction  of  the  Irish  melody  ('Last 


Martha  107 

Rose  of  Summer')  served  to  disinfect  the  rottenness  of  the 
Martha  music, " 

Flotow  was  born  April  27,  181 2.  Died  January  24, 
1883. 

MARTHA 

CHARACTERS  OF  THE  OPERA  WITH  THE  ORIGINAL  CAST  AS 
PRESENTED   AT  THE  FIRST  PERFORMANCE 

Lady  Harriet Anna  Zerr 

Nancy Therese  Schwarz 

Lionel Joseph  Erl 

Plunkett            Carl  Formes 

Sheriff  of  Richmond,  three  servants  of  Lady  Harriet,  three  maid 
servants. 

Chorus  of  ladies,  servants,  farmers,  hunters  and  huntresses,  pages, 
etc. 

The  story  is  enacted  in  England  during  Queen  Anne's  reign. 

First  sung  at  Vienna  Court  Opera,  November  25,  1847. 

Composer:    Friedrich  Freiherr  von  Flotow. 
Author:  W.  Friedrich  (F.  W.  Riese). 

ACT  I 

One  morning  during  fair  time  in  Richmond  the  Lady 
Harriet,  maid  of  honour  to  her  Majesty  Queen  Anne, 
was  sitting  in  her  boudoir  at  her  toilet  table.  She  and 
all  her  maids  and  women  friends  who  were  attending  at 
her  toilet  were  bored  to  death. 

"Did  any  one  ever  know  such  a  stupid,  dismal  life  as 
we  are  leading?"  they  declared.  "In  heaven's  name, 
why  doesn't  some  one  think  of  something  to  do  that  will 
vary  the  monotony  of  this  routine  existence?  We  rise 
in  the  morning,  make  a  toilet,  go  to  her  Majesty,  make 
a  toilet,  breakfast,  read  to  her  Majesty,  make  a  toilet, 
dine,  walk  with  her  Majesty,  sup,  unmake  a  toilet  and 


io8  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

go  to  bed!  Of  all  the  awful  existences  I  really  believe 
ours  has  become  the  most  so. " 

"It  is  as  you  say,  but  we  cannot  improve 'matters  by 
groaning  about  it.  Lady  Harriet,  Sir  Tristram  has  sent 
you  some  flowers,"  Nancy,  Lady  Harriet's  favourite, 
cried,  handing  them  to  her  ladyship. 

"Well,  do  you  call  that  something  new?  because  I 
don't!  Why  doesn't  the  cook  send  me  some  flowers  — 
or  maybe  the  hostler  —  somebody,  something  new? 
Take  them  out  of  my  sight  —  and  Sir  Tristram  with 
them,  in  case  he  appears." 

"Look  at  these  diamonds:  they  sparkle  like  morning 
showers  on  the  flowers.  The  sight  of  them  is  enough  to 
please  any  one!" 

"It  is  not  enough  to  please  me,"  Lady  Harriet  declared 
petulantly,  determined  to  be  pleased  with  nothing. 

"Who  is  that?  There  is  some  one  who  wishes  an  au- 
dience with  me!    I'll  see  no  one." 

"Ah,"  a  man's  voice  announced  from  the  curtains, 
"but  I  have  come  to  tell  you  of  something  new.  Lady 
Harriet!" 

"You?  Sir  Tristram?  Is  there  anything  new  under 
the  sun?  If  you  really  have  something  to  suggest  that 
is  worth  hearing,  you  may  come  in." 

"Listen,  ladies!  and  tell  me  if  I  haven't  conceived  a 
clever  thought.     The  fair  is  on  at  Richmond " 

"Well  — it  is  always  on,  isn't  it?" 

"Oh,  no,  ladies.  Only  once  a  year  —  this  is  the  time. 
There  is  a  fair  and  there  are  cock-fights " 

"Ah  —  that  soimds  rather  thrilling." 

"And  donkeys " 

"Oh,  there  are  always  donkeys  —  always!"  the  ladies 
cried,  looking  hopelessly  at  poor  Sir  Tristram. 


Martha 


109 


"I  mean  real  donkeys,"  the  poor  man  explained 
patiently. 

"So  do  we  mean  real  donkeys,"  they  sighed. 

"And  there  are  the  races — and  —  well,  if  you  will 
come  I  am  certain  there  are  several  new  attractions. 
Let  me  take  you,  Lady  Harriet,  and  I  promise  to  make 
you  forget  your  ennui  for  once.     Cock-fights  and " 

"Donkeys,"  she  sighed,  rising.  "Very  well,  one 
might  as  well  die  of  donkeys  and  cock-fights  as  of  nothing 
at  all.     It  is  too  hot,  open  the  window " 

"I  fly." 

"Oh,  heavens!  now  it  is  too  cold  —  shut  it " 

"I  fly,"  the  unhappy  Sir  Tristram  replied. 

"Give  me  my  fan " 

"I  fly."       He  flies. 

"O  lord,  I  don't  want  it " 

"I  fl —  oh! "  he  sighed  and  sank  into  a  chair,  exhausted. 

Allegretto. 


^ 


ESi-4-^ 


Come     a — way,      Maid — ens    gay,       To    the 


H^ 


^£ 


fair 


All      re— pair,       Let    us       go,       Let    tis 


I 


■^ 


t^: 


^ 


* — n- 


-si— n- 


I 


show      Will— ing    hearts,     Fair     de— sertsi 

"What  is  that?"  Harriet  asked  impatiently,  as  she 
heard  this  gay  chorus  sung  just  outside  her  windows. 

"A  gay  measure:  the  girls  and  lads  going  to  the  fair," 
Nancy  replied. 


no  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Servant  girls  and  stable  boys  —  bah!" 

"Yes  —  shocking!  Who  would  give  them  a  thought?" 
Sir  Tristram  rashly  remarked. 

"Why,  I  don't  know!  after  all,  they  sound  very  gay 
indeed.  You  haven't  very  good  taste,  Sir  Tristram,  I 
declare."  And  at  this  the  poor  old  fop  should  have  seen 
that  she  would  contradict  anything  that  he  said. 

"Oh,  I  remember  now!  Fair  day  is  the  day  when  all 
the  pretty  girls  dress  in  their  best  and  go  to  the  fair  to 
seek  for  places,  to  get  situations.  They  hire  themselves 
out  for  a  certain  length  of  time  !—  till  next  year,  I  think. 
Meantime  they  dance  in  their  best  dresses  and  have  a 
very  gay  day  of  it." 

"That  sounds  to  me  rather  attractive,"  Lady  Harriet 
remarked  thoughtfully. 

"A  foolish  fancy,  yoiu:  ladyship,"  the  imfortunate 
Sir  Tristram  put  in. 

"Now  I  am  resolved  to  go!  Get  me  that  bodice  I 
wore  at  the  fancy  dress  ball,  Nancy.  We  shall  all  go  — 
I  shall  be  Martha,  —  Nancy,  and  old  Rob." 

"And  —  and  who  may  be  'old  Rob,'  your  ladyship?" 
Sir  Tristram  asked,  feeling  much  pained  at  this 
frivolity. 

"Why,  you,  to  be  sure.  Come!  No  mumps!  No 
dumps!    We  are  off!" 

"Oh,  this  is  too  much." 

"What,  Sir  Tristram,  is  that  the  extent  of  your  love 
forme?" 

"No,  no  — I  shall  do  as  you  wish  — but,"  the  poor 
old  chap  sighed  heavily. 

"To  be  sure  you  will  —  so  now,  Nancy,  teach  old  Rob 
how  the  yokels  dance,  and  we'll  be  off." 

"This  is  too  much.    I  can't  dance  in  that  manner." 


Martha 


III 


"Dance  —  or  leave  me!  Dance  — or  stay  at  home, 
sir!"    Harriet  cried  sternly. 

*'0  heaven —I'll  dance,"  and  so  he  tried,  and  the 
teases  put  him  through  all  the  absurd  paces  they  knew, 
till  he  fell  exhausted  into  a  seat. 

"That  was  almost  true  to  nature,"  they  laughed. 
"You  will  do,  so  come  along.  But  don't  forget  your  part. 
Don't  let  us  see  any  of  the  airs  of  a  nobleman  or  you  shall 
leave  us.  We'll  take  you,  but  if  you  forget  your  part  we 
shall  certainly  leave  you,"  and  they  dragged  him  off 
recklessly. 

At  the  fair,  ribbons  were  flying,  bands  were  playing, 
lads  and  lasses  were  dancing,  and  farmers  were  singing: 


Bright  and      biu — om    lass — es,     Come,  the  fair  shall 

. N \ 1 \ r 1-^~. 0 ^ 


4=- 


1 


be — gin,        Show     your        ro — sy       fac— es 


I 


And         our  hearts     ye         soon     shall       win. 


Fleet  of  foot,  and  clad  with  neatness, 

Come  and  let  the  master  choose; 
Sweet  of  temper,  all  discreetness, 

Who  a  prize  like  this  would  lose? 

Done  is  the  bargain  if  the  maid  is  trusty,  biythe  and  willing; 
Done  is  the  bargain  if  she  accepts  the  master's  proffered  shiling! 

Thus,  the  farmers  who  had  come  to  the  fair  to  choose  a 
maid-servant,  sang  together.     The  maid-servants   were 


112  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

meanwhile  singing  a  song  of  their  own,  and  everybody 
was  in  high  feather. 

Now  to  this  fair  had  come  two  farmers  in  particular; 
one  being  farmer  Plunkett,  and  the  other,  altogether  a 
handsome  fellow,  named  Lionel,  who  was  the  foster- 
brother  of  Plmikett.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  left  in 
his  babyhood  on  the  doorstep  of  Plunkett's  father,  who 
adopted  him  and  brought  him  up  with  his  own  son.  The 
baby  had  had  nothing  by  which  he  could  be  identified, 
but  there  was  a  ring  left  with  him,  and  the  instruction 
that  it  was  to  be  shown  to  the  Queen  in  case  the  boy 
should  ever  find  himself  in  serious  trouble  when  he  grew 
up.  Now  both  these  gay  farmers  had  come  to  secure 
maid-servants  for  the  year,  and  Plunkett  came  up  to  in- 
spect the  girls  as  they  assembled. 

"What  a  clatter!  This  becomes  a  serious  matter. 
How  on  earth  is  a  man  to  make  a  choice  with  such  con- 
fusion all  about  him?" 

"Oh  well,  there  is  no  haste,"  Lionel  replied  leisurely. 

"No  haste?  I  tell  you,  Lionel,  we  can't  afford  to  lose 
any  time.  There  is  that  farm  falling  to  pieces  for  need 
of  a  competent  servant  to  look  after  it!  I  should  say 
there  was  haste,  with  a  vengeance.  We  must  get  a  good 
stout  maid  to  go  home  with  us,  or  we  shall  be  in  a  pretty 
fix.  You  don't  know  much  about  these  things,  to  be  sure. 
You  were  always  our  mother's  favourite,  and  I  the  clumsy 
bear  who  got  most  of  the  cuffs  and  ran  the  farm;  but  take 
my  word  for  it,  if  we  don't  find  good  maids  we  shall  soon 
be  ruined,  because  you  are  of  no  more  use  on  a  farm 
than  the  fifth  wheel  is  on  a  wagon." 

"Oh,  come,  come,  brother,  don't " 

"That's  all  right!  I  meant  no  harm.  You  are  my 
brother  and  I'll  stick  by  you  forever,  but  you  aren't 


Martha  i  113 

practical.  Leave  this  maid-servant  business  to  me,  and 
take  my  word  for  it  we  must  hurry  the  matter  up  and  get 
home.  Some  day  you'll  be  giving  that  fine  ring  of  yours 
to  Queen  Anne,  Lionel,  and  then  heaven  knows  what 
will  happen;  but  I  suspect  that  whatever  it  is  I  shall  find 
myself  without  a  brother." 

"It  shall  never  happen.  I  shall  live  and  die  quite  con- 
tented beneath  the  roof  where  we  have  grown  up  to- 
gether and  where  I  have  been  happiest." 

"Ohe!  Ohe!  Ohe!  the  fair  begins!  Here  comes  the 
sheriff  with  his  bell.  Ye  maids,  come  forth  now,  both 
young  and  old!  Come  forth,  come  forth!  Make  way 
there  for  the  Law!"  bawled  a  crier,  clearing  the  way  for 
the  sheriff,  who  had  come  to  preside  over  the  business  of 
contract-making  between  the  serving  maids  and  the 
farmers. 

I  the  statute  first  will  read, 
Then  to  business  we'll  proceed, 

the  burly  sheriff  called  at  the  top  of  his  voice;  and  all  the 
yokels  laughed  and  crowded  about  him  while  he  mounted 
a  box  and  began  to  read  the  Law.  '"  'Tis  our  royal  will 
and  pleasure  —  '  Hats  off!  Rustics,  look  at  me!  Loyal 
feelings  let  us  cherish!  'We,  Queen  Anne,  hereby  de- 
cree to  all  subjects  of  the  crown,  dwelling  here  in  Rich- 
mond town,  whoso  at  the  fair  engages,  to  perform  a  ser- 
vant's part,  for  a  year  her  service  pledges;  from  this  law 
let  none  depart.'  " 

When  the  earnest  money's  taken,  let  the  bargain  stay  unshakeni 

"Now,  then,  ye  have  heard?    Stick  to  the  bargains  ye 
make  —  or  the  law  will  get  ye!" 

"And  now  what  can  ye  do,  Molly  Pitt?" 


114  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

I  can  sow,  sir, 

I  can  mow,  sir, 

I  can  bake  and  brew. 

Mend  things  like  new. 

Can  mind  a  house,  and  rule  it,  too, 

There's  naught  I  cannot  do. 

"She's  worth  four  guineas.    Who  will  hire  her?" 
Molly  was  at  once  hired  by  a  farmer. 
"And  now  you,  Polly  Smith?" 

I  can'cook,  sir. 

By  the  book,  sir, 

I  can  roast  and  toast, 

And  'tis  my  boast 

That  nothing  in  house 

That  I  preside  in  yet  was  lost. 

"Polly's  worth  five  guineas.  Who  wants  her?" 
Polly  was  immediately  hired  by  a  farmer.  After  half 
a  dozen  buxom  girls  had  told  what  they  could  do,  and 
had  found  places  for  the  year  —  none  of  them  satisfying 
Plunkett  and  Lionel,  however,  who  are  feeling  almost 
discouraged  at  the  outlook— Lady  Harriet  (who 
called  herself  Martha)  and  Nancy  and  Sir  Tristram  came 
pushing  merrily  into  the  crowd.  Lady  Harriet  (or  Mar- 
tha) was  certain  to  want  to  see  everything.  Old  Sir 
Tristram  was  protesting  and  having  a  most  dreadful  time 
of  it. 

"This  way,  Rob,"  Martha  called,  dragging  him  by 
the  hand  and  laughing.     "What!  must  I  lead  you?"  ^ 

"Come,  good,  good  Rob,"  Nancy  mocked,  entering  in- 
to the  spirit  of  it  and  poking  the  old  beau  ahead  of  her. 
Sir  Tristram  groaned. 

"Oh,  I  am  just  like  a  lamb  led  to  the  slaughter." 

"Look,  brother,"  Plunkett  now  said,  nudging  Lionel. 
"What  pretty  lasses!  Theirs  are  not  like  servants'  faces." 


Martha 


"S 


•    "Let's  inquire,"  Lionel  replied,  a  good  deal  interested 
and  staring  at  Nancy  and  Martha. 

"Do  you  see  how  these  disgusting  rustics  are  staring? 
Let  us  fly,  Lady " 

"Martha,"  Lady  Harriet  reproved  him.  "Don't  for- 
get I'm  Martha." 

"Well,  'Martha/  let  us  go " 

"Not  I!  I  am  having  the  first  moment  of  gaiety  I 
have  known  in  a  year.  No,  ye'U  not  go."  Then  in 
bravado  and  to  torment  Sir  Tristram  she  set  up  a  cry: 

"No,  here  in  the  open  fair,  I  refuse  you  for  my  master! 
I  won't  go  with  you! "  By  that  outbreak  she  had  attract- 
ed the  attention  of  everybody  about.  Nancy,  too,  set 
up  a  screech  and  everybody  crowded  about  them.  Sir 
Tristram  dared  not  say  a  word  to  help  himself,  because 
if  he  should  really  displease  Lady  Harriet  he  knew  it 
would  be  all  up  with  him. 

"Nonsense,  nonsense,"  he  said,  confused  and  tormented. 

"Well,  you  can't  force  her,  Master  Rob,"  the  frolic- 
some Nancy  joined  in. 

"Force  the  girl?  No,  I  think  not,  old  fellow,"  Plunkett 
now  cried,  coming  forward  with  Lionel.  The  two  of 
them  had  been  watching  the  quarrel.  "No  farmer  can 
hire  a  maid  against  her  will.  There  are  servants  to  spare 
here;  take  your  pick  and  let  these  alone,"  and  the  tricky 
Martha  and  Nancy  nearly  fainted  with  trying  to  suppress 
their  laughter  as  they  witnessed  Sir  Tristram's  plight. 
At  that  moment  all  the  unhired  serving  maids  rushed 
to  Sir  Tristram  and  crowded  about  him  and  began  their 
eternal,  "I  can  bake,  sir,  I  can  brew,  sir,"  etc.,  and  beg- 
ged him  to  hire  them.  Now  this  was  the  last  straw,  and 
Sir  Tristram  looked  for  Martha  and  Nancy  to  come  to  his 
assistance,  but  they  only  shrieked  with  laughter    and 


ii6  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

urged  the  girls  on.  Meantime,  Plunkett  and  Lionel  had 
approached  them,  and,  when  Martha  noticed  that  they 
were  about  to  speak,  she  became  a  little  frightened. 

"Oh,  see  how  they  are  looking  at  us!"  she  gasped  to 
Nancy. 

"Well,  I  can't  say  I  mind  it.  I  am  willing  to  be  seen," 
Nancy  laughed,  still  more  giddily  than  Lady  Harriet. 

"I'd  like  her  to  do  the  cooking,"  Plunkett  remarked 
aside  to  Lionel  and  pointing  to  Nancy. 

"I  think  it  would  be  best  to  hire  them  both." 

"Well,  that  might  be  a  good  plan.  Go  up  and  bar- 
gain with  them." 

"I  do  not  dare,"  Lionel  answered,  hanging  back. 

"Pooh!  Then  I  must  show  you,  now  then  —  er — 
now  then  —  er  —  ahem!"  Plimkett,  too,  found  himself 
embarrassed.  In  fact,  the  women  did  not  seem  at  all 
like  the  other  serving  maids,  though  their  clothing  was 
that  of  the  others. 

"Pooh,  they'll  never  dare  ask  us!"  Nancy  told  Martha. 

"No,  come  on!  Let's  go!"  and  they  turned  away. 
At  that  Lionel  became  excited. 

"We  shall  lose  them  altogether!    They  are  going! " 

So  then  Plimkett  got  up  courage  and  went  to  them. 

"Damsels,  listen!  We  would  hire  you.  Have  you 
ears?  If  your  floors  and  platters  glisten,  ye  shall  stay 
with  us  for  years!" 

.     "Yes  —  for  —  for  years,"  Lionel  managed  to  say. 
'     "What,   as   your   servants?"   Lady   Harriet   gasped. 
Nancy  laughed. 

"You  are  laughing?"  Lionel  said.  He  was  very 
anxious  to  hire  them.  They  were  quite  the  handsomest 
serving  maids  he  had  ever  seen. 

"No   trouble   about   that,"   Plunkett   declared.    "If 


Martha  117 

she  laughs,  she  will  certainly  be  good-natured  about  her 
work." 

"What  work?" 

"What  work?"  Lady  Harriet  and  Nancy  said  in  one 
breath. 

"Oh,  you  are  for  the  farmyard,"  Plunkett  replied, 
reassuringly  to  Lady  Harriet,  "to  keep  the  house  and 
stable  clean,  you  know.  And  you,"  to  Nancy,  "are  to 
do  the  cooking." 

"You  don't  mean  that  this  tender  creature  is  to  clean 
stables,  brother?  "     Lionel  demanded  impulsively. 

"Well,  she  might  work  in  the  garden  instead  if    she 
prefers  it.     Fifty  crowns  shall  be  your  wages;  and,  to  be 
brief,  everything  found!     Beer  and  cheese  for  supper  on 
week  days;  and  on  Sundays,  good  roast  beef." 
Lady  Harriet  tried  to  control  her  laughter. 
^  "Who  could  resist  so  splendid  an  offer,"  she  asked  of 
Nancy.     Nancy  for  her  part  was  neariy  dying  of  laughter. 
"Not  we,  not  we,  Martha." 
"  'Tis  done,  then;  we  will  go." 

"Then  by  the  powers,  here's  the  shilling  to  bind  the 
bargain,"  Lionel  cried,  fearful  lest  after  all  he  and  Plun- 
kett should  lose  them;  so  he  handed  over  the  shilling 
to  Lady  Harriet,  who,  not  knowing  that  this  bound  her 
to  their  service  for  a  year,  took  it  as  a  part  of  the  fun. 

Was  there  ever  so  droll  a  situation? 
I  began  to  feel  not  quite  at  ease. 

the  giris  then  said  to  each  other,  and  they  began  to  look 
about  for  Tristram.  He  had  got  away,  trying  to  rid 
himself  of  the  maids,  but  now  he  came  back  again,  still 
followed  by  the  whole  of  them.  He  was  the  image  of 
despair. 


ii8  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Here's  a  pound  to  pay  the  forfeit,"  he  cried  to  the 
maids,  giving  them  money.  "And  now  for  heaven's 
sake  let  me  go.  But  —  but  how  is  this  —  all  so  friendly," 
he  gasped  in  amazement,  observing  Plimkett  and  Lionel, 
Lady  Harriet  and  Nancy. 

"Who  are  you?"  demanded  Plunkett  in  a  threaten- 
ing manner. 

"Oh,  good-bye,"  Harriet  cried  now  to  the  farmers, 
and  she  went  to  Sir  Tristram.  They  had  had  enough  of 
it  now,  and  decided  to  go  home. 

"Good-bye?"  cried  Plunkett.  "Are  you  demented? 
Did  ye  not  hire  to  us?     Good-bye?" 

"Hush!  O  lord!  That  wasn't  our  intention.  What 
if  it  should  be  heard  of  at  court?" 

"Really  we  must  go,"  she  repeated,  starting  again  to 
go  to  Tristram  while  Plunkett  held  her  back. 

"I  guess  you  go  no  place  but  home  with  us!  You're 
hired,  do  you  understand?  You  took  the  shilling.  You 
are  hired  to  serve  us  for  one  year.  Now  no  more  non- 
sense.   Here,  sheriff,  tell  these  giris  about  this." 

"Why,  if  you  have  taken  the  earnest  money,  ye  are 
bound  to  go,"  said  the  sheriff.  "So  go  along  and  make 
no  more  trouble,  or  I'll  look  after  ye."  Now  the  women 
were  in  a  pickle.  If  they  persisted,  of  course  they  would 
be  set  free  when  it  was  known  they  belonged  to  Queen 
Anne's  court;  but  they  could  never  live  down  the  dis- 
grace of  their  prank.  Plainly  there  was  nothing  left  for 
them  but  to  abide  by  their  arrangement  and  go  with 
Plunkett  and  Lionel.  Everybody  now  set  up  an  indig- 
nant howl  at  their  behaviour.  Tristram  could  not  help 
them.  The  angry  farmers  pushed  him  aside,  and  Lady 
Harriet  and  Nancy  were  taken  by  their  arms  by  the  two 
farmers,  and  walked  back  to  where  the  wagon  waited. 


Martha  up 

"Now  then!  no  more  nonsense,  girls!  Ye  are  hired  to 
us  and  ye  will  go,"  Plunkett  declared,  lifting  the  women 
into  the  wagon,  while  Lionel  got  up  beside  them,  and 
then  amid  the  shouts  of  the  crowd  and  the  laughter  of 
the  other  girls,  and  the  noise  of  the  hurdy-gurdies  and 
the  dancing  and  the  calls  of  the  people,  Lady  Harriet, 
Nancy,  and  Lionel  were  driven  off  to  the  farm  by  Plun- 
kett. 

ACT  II 

"Now,  damsels,  get  to  bed,"  Plunkett  said  to  Martha 
and  Nancy  as  he  opened  the  door  of  the  farmhouse  upon 
their  arrival.  "Get  to  bed,  because  ye  must  get  up  at 
dawn."  The  two  giddy  young  women  looked  about 
them.  There  were  doors  at  the  right  and  left  of  the  big 
room  which  they  first  entered,  and  they  doubtless  led  to 
bedrooms.  On  the  table  a  lamp  was  burning  and  there 
were  a  couple  of  spinning  wheels  to  be  seen.  As  they 
came  in  they  noticed  a  bell  hung  on  a  pole  just  outside 
the  door.  Not  a  bit  like  the  palace  of  Queen  Anne!  and 
altogether  the  lark  didn't  appear  to  have  the  advantages 
it  first  had. 

"0  heaven!  What  shall  we  do?"  Martha  said  to 
Nancy.     "  We  must  get  out  of  this  soon,  in  some  way." 

"Well,  the  main  thing  is  to  get  to  bed  now,"  Nancy 
declared,  and  so  the  girls  turned  to  say  good-night  to 
the  two  farmers. 

"Good-night?  Not  so.  There  are  your  duties  to  be 
done  first." 

"Our  duties?"  Martha  exclaimed,  looking  blank. 

"Oh,  don't  disturb  them  to-night,"  Lionel  interrupted, 
speaking  to  his  brother.  Lionel  was  more  and  more 
impressed  with  both  of  them,  especially  with  the  beauty 


I20  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

of  Martha.  "They  are  very  tired.  Don't  disturb  them 
to-night." 

"But  you  will  spoil  them  to  begin  with,"  Plunkett 
insisted.  "And  by  the  way,  what  are  your  names?"  he 
asked. 

"Mine  is  Martha,"  Lady  Harriet  answered  dolefully. 

"Mine  is  — Julia,"  Nancy  said  impatiently. 

"Ho,  ho!  Too  grand  to  please  me!  — but,  Julia,  my 
dame  of  fashion,  pray,  put  my  cloak  away,"  Plunkett 
returned,  handing  it  to  her. 

"Upon  my  life!  What  impertinence!"  she  cried, 
throwing  the  cloak  upon  the  floor.  "  Put  away  your 
own  cloak." 

"What  —  what?"  Plunkett  shouted,  enraged,  and 
starting  up. 

"Now,  pray  be  lenient  with  them,  brother.  They  are 
quite  strange  to  our  ways,  perhaps  —  and  then  they  are 
very  tired,  you  know.  Probably  overworked  by  their 
last  master.  Leave  matters  to  me.  I'll  put  them  quite 
at  their  ease;"  whereupon  Lionel  took  his  hat  and  held 
it  out  to  Martha. 

"Martha  —  take  it,  if  you  please,"  Martha  looked  at 
him  haughtily,  and  turned  her  back  on  him.  Poor 
Lionel  was  distracted  and  abashed. 

"Well,  really,  I  don't  —  I  don't  know  just  what  to  do 
myself,"  he  declared,  as  his  brother  snorted  with  satis- 
faction at  Lionel's  discomfiture. 

"Well,"  said  Lionel,  hesitating  a  moment;  then  he 
took  his  hat  and  hung  it  up  himself;  then  Plunkett  picked 
up  his  cloak  and  waited  upon  himself. 

"A  pretty  kettle-of-fish,  I  should  say,"  he  muttered. 
"Well,  then,  to  your  spinning!" 

"To  our  spinning?"  they  cried  in  imison. 


Martha 


121 


"Yes,  yes,  to  your  spinning,"  Plunkett  returned  testily. 
"Do  you  expect  to  do  nothing  but  entertain  us  with  con- 
versation? To  your  spinning,  I  said."  Then  all  at  once 
the  women  burst  out  laughing. 

"Are  ye  good  for  nothing?"  Plunkett  shouted,  in  a 
greater  rage.  "Come,  we've  had  enough  of  this!  You 
go  and  bring  those  spindles,"  and  Plunkett  shouted  this 
so  loudly  that  the  girls  were  downright  frightened  at  last. 

"Oh,  do  not  scold  us,"  Martha  entreated,  shrinking 
back. 

"No,  no,  brother,  let  us  be  gentle." 

"Stuff!  Now,  girls,  you  get  at  that  spinning  wheel  as 
I  tell  you." 

The  two  girls  looked  at  each  other.  They  no  longer 
dared  carry  matters  with  a  high  hand,  and  yet  how  could 
they  spin?  They  knew  no  more  how  to  spin  than  did  a 
couple  of  pussy-cats.  After  going  up  to  the  wheels  and 
looking  at  them  in  wonder,  they  exclaimed: 

"I  can't." 

"What?"  yelled  Plunkett. 

"We  —  we  don't  know  how." 

"Well,  upon  my  soul!"  Plunkett  cried.  "Now  you 
two  sit  down  there  as  quick  as  you  can."  They  sat  as  if 
they  were  shot.  Plunkett  seemed  very  much  in  earnest. 
"Now  turn  those  wheels!" 

"They  —  they  will  not  turn,"  they  cried,  trying  and 
making  an  awful  botch  of  it. 

"Twist  the  thread,"  Lionel  instructed  with  much 
anxiety. 

"O  Lord!  It  won't  twist,  they  won't  turn.  Oh,  good 
gracious!     We  can't!  we  can't  do  it  at  all." 

"Now  then,  look  at  this,"  Plunkett  cried,  and  he  took 
Nancy  from  the  chair,  and  seated  himself  at  the  spinning 


122  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

wheel;  and  Lionel  unseated  Martha  — gently  —  and  took 
her  place,  and  then  the  fun  began.  "Now  watch  —  and 
we  will  teach  you  something  about  this  business." 

This  way  set  the  wheel  a-flying, 
Set  it  whirring,  set  it  flying. 
Work  the  treadle  with  a  will. 
While  an  even  thread  you're  pl3ang, 
Never  let  your  wheel  be  still. 

Come,  you  will  not  lose  by  trying, 
I  can  see  you  have  good  will. 

and  while  the  girls  joined  in  this  gay  spinning  song,  the 
men  buzzed  an  accompaniment  of  "Bit,  brr,  brr,"  and 
the  fun  waxed  fast  and  furious,  the  men  spinning  faster 
and  faster  every  moment,  the  girls  becoming  more  and 
more  excited  with  watching  and  trying  to  learn  —  because 
they  now  saw  that  there  was  nothing  for  them  but  to  be- 
gin business;  and  more  than  this,  they  began  almost  to 
like  the  farmer  chaps.  After  a  moment,  first  one  began 
to  laugh,  then  another,  till  suddenly  they  all  dragged  oflE 
into  a  merry  "ha,  ha,  ha!" 

Look!    How  the  busy  task  he's  plying, 

Hercules  is  at  the  wheel; 
Look,  I  too  can  set  it  fl>'ing, 

Scold  me  if  I  do  it  ill 

Nancy  —  or  rather  Julia  —  sang,  as  she  took  a  turn 
at  it.  All  had  turned  to  fun  and  frolic,  and  now  even 
Lady  Harriet  —  or  Martha  —  could  not  withstand  the 
temptation  to  try  her  hand;  so  down  she  sat,  and  away 
she  went  spinning,  and  singing  with  the  best  of  them. 
Suddenly  Nancy  upset  her  wheel,  Plunkett  gaily  threat- 
ened her,  and  away  she  ran,  with  Plunkett  chasing  after 
her.  In  a  minute  they  had  disappeared,  and  Martha  was 
left  alone  with  Lionel. 


Martha  123 

"Nancy — Julia  —  where  are  you?  here!  don't  leave 
me  — "  Martha  cried. 

"Have  no  fear,  gentle  girl,"  Lionel  said,  detaining  her. 
"There  is  no  one  who  will  hurt  you."  Martha  regarded 
him  with  some  anxiety  for  a  moment,  then  became 
reassured. 

"No  — I  will  not  be  afraid,"  she  thought.  "This 
stranger  has  a  kind  way  with  him.  True,  they  are  strange 
in  their  ways  —  to  me  —  but  then  I  am  strange  in  my 
ways  —  to  them." . 

"Come!  I'll  promise  never  to  be  impatient  with  you 
nor  to  scold  you  if  you  do  not  get  things  right.  I  am  sure 
you  will  do  your  best,"  he  gently  insisted,  trying  to  put 
her  at  her  ease.  "To  tell  the  truth  —  I  am  desperately 
in  love  with  you,  Martha." 

"Oh,    good    gracious  —  it    is  —  so    sudden "she 

gasped,  looking  about  for  some  chance  of  escape.  "Don't, 
sir!  I  assure  you  I  am  the  worst  sort  of  servant.  I 
have  deceived  you:  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I  know  almost 
nothing  of  housework  or  farmwork  —  I " 

"Well,  at  least,  you  know  how  to  laugh  and  while  the 
time  away.  Never  mind  about  the  work  —  we  shall 
get  on;  we'll  let  the  work  go.  Only  sing  for  me  —  come, 
let  us  be  gay." 

"Alas!  I  do  not  feel  gay " 

"Then  sing  something  that  is  not  gay.  Sing  what 
you  will  —  but  sing,"  he  urged.  He  was  more  in  love 
with  her  every  moment,  and  not  knowing  what  else  to  do 
Martha  sang  —  "  Tis  the  Last  Rose  of  Summer!" 

By  the  time  the  song  was  sung,  Lionel  had  quite  lost 
his  head. 

"Martha,  since  the  moment  I  first  saw  thee,  I  have 
loved  thee  madly.     Be  my  wife  and  I  will  be  your  willing 


124  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

slave  —  you  may  count  on  me  to  do  the  spinning  and 
everything  else,  if  only  you  will  be  my  wife.  I'll  raise 
thee  to  my  own  station."  This  was  really  too  much. 
Martha  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"Raise  me  —  er —  "  In  spite  of  herself  she  had  to 
laugh.  Then,  with  a  feeling  of  tenderness  growing  in 
her  heart,  she  felt  sorry  for  him. 

"I  am  sorry  to  cause  you  pain,  but  really  you  don't 

know  what  you  are  sa3dng.     I "    And  at  this  crisis 

Nancy  and  Plunkett  came  in,  Plunkett  raising  a  great 
to-do  because  Nancy  had  been  hiding  successfully  from 
him,  in  the  kitchen. 

"She  hasn't  been  cooking,"  he  explained;  "simply  hid- 
ing —  and  I  can't  abide  idle  ways  —  never  could  —  now 
what  is  wrong  with  you  two?"  he  asks,  observing  the  re- 
straint felt  by  Lionel  and  Martha;  but  before  any  one 
could  answer,  midnight  struck. 

"Twelve  o'clock!"  all  exclaimed. 

"All  good  angels  watch  over  thee,"  Lionel  said  im- 
pulsively to  Martha,  "and  make  thee  less  scornful." 

For  a  moment,  Plunkett  looked  thoughtful,  then  tiu-n- 
ing  to  Nancy  he  said  manfully,  while  everybody  seemed 
at  pause  since  the  stroke  of  midnight. 

"Nancy,  girl,  you  are  not  what  I  sought  for  —  a  good 
servant  —  but  some  way,  I  feel  as  if  —  as  if  as  a  wife,  I 
should  find  thee  a  good  one.  I  vow,  I  begin  to  love 
thee,  for  all  of  thy  bothersome  little  ways." 

"Well,  well,  good-night,  good-night,  sirs,"  Nancy 
cried  hastily  and  somewhat  disconcerted.  To  tell  the 
truth,  she  had  begun  to  think  kindly  of  Plunkett.  Plun- 
kett went  thoughtfully  to  the  outer  door  and  carefully 
locked  it,  then  turned  and  regarded  the  girls  who  stood 
silently  and  a  little  sadly,  apart. 


Martha  125 

"Good- night,"  he  said:  and  Lionel  looking  tenderly 
at  Martha  murmured,  "Good-night,"  and  the  two  men 
went  away  to  their  own  part  of  the  house,  leaving  the 
girls  alone. 

"Nancy "  Martha  whispered  softly,  after  amoment. 

"Madame?" 

"What  next?  —  how  escape?" 

"How  can  we  go?" 

"We  must " 

"It  is  very  dark  and  the  way  is  strange  to  us,"  she  said, 
sadly  and  fearfully. 

"Well,  fortune  has  given  us  gentle  masters,  at  least," 
Martha  murmured. 

"Yes  —  kind  and  good " 

"What  if  the  Queen  should  hear  of  this?" 

"Oh,  Lord!"  And  at  that  moment  came  a  soft  knock- 
ing at  the  window.  Both  girls  started.  "What's  that?" 
More  knocking!  "Gracious  heaven!  I  am  nearly  dead 
with  fear,"  Martha  whispered,  looking  stealthily  about. 
Nancy  pointed  to  the  window. 

"  Look "      Martha  looked. 

"Tristram  —  Sir  Tristram!"  she  whispered  excitedly. 
"Open  the  window.  I  can't  move,  I  am  so  scared.  Now, 
he'll  rave  —  and  I  can't  resent  it.  We  deserve  anything 
he  may  say. "  Nancy  opened  the  ^\andow,  and  Sir  Tris- 
tram stepped  in  softly,  upon  receiving  a  caution  from  the 
girls. 

"Lady  Harriet,  this  is  most  monstrous." 

"Oh,  my  soul!  Don't  we  know  it.  Don't  wake  the 
farmers  up,  in  heaven's  name!  Things  are  bad  enough 
without  making  them  worse." 

"Yes,  let  us  fly,  and  make  as  little  row  about  it  as 
we  can, "  Nancy  implored. 


126  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Then  come  —  no  words.  I  have  my  carriage  wait- 
ing; follow  me  quickly  and  say  good-bye  to  this  hovel." 

"Hovel?"  Lady  Harriet  looked  about.  Suddenly  she 
had  a  feeling  of  regret.     "Hovel?" 

"Nay,"  Nancy  interrupted.  "To  this  peaceful  house 
—  good-bye."  Nancy,  too,  had  a  regret.  They  had  had 
a  gleeful  hour  here,  among  frank  and  kindly  folk,  even 
if  they  had  also  been  a  bit  frightened.  Anything  that 
had  gone  wrong  with  them  had  been  their  fault.  Tris- 
tram placed  a  bench  at  the  window  that  the  ladies  might 
climb  over,  and  thus  they  got  out,  and  immediately  the 
sound  of  their  carriage  wheels  was  heard  in  the  yard. 
Plimkett  had  waked  up  meantime  and  had  come  out  to 
call  the  girls.  It  was  time  for  their  day's  work  to  begin. 
Farmer  folk  are  out  of  bed  early. 

"Ho,  girls!  —  time  to  be  up,"  he  called,  entering  from 
his  chamber.  Then  he  saw  the  open  window.  He  paused. 
"Do  I  hear  carriage  wheels — and  the  window  open  —  and 
the  bench  —  and  the  girls  —  gone!  Ho  there!  Every- 
body!" he  rushed  out  and  furiously  pulled  the  bell  which 
hung  from  the  pole  outside.  His  farmhands  come  run- 
ning. "Ho  —  those  girls  hired  yesterday  have  gone. 
Get  after  them.  Bring  them  back.  I  may  drop  dead 
the  next  instant,  but  I'll  be  boimd  they  shan't  treat 
us  in  this  manner.  After  them!  Back  they  shall 
come!"  And  in  the  midst  of  all  this  confusion  in  ran 
Lionel. 

"What " 

"Thieves!  —  the  girls  have  run  o£f  —  a  nice  return  for 
our  affections!" 

"After  them!  — don't  lose  a  minute,"  Lionel  then 
cried  in  his  turn,  and  away  rushed  the  farmhands. 

"They  are  ours  for  one  year,  by  law.   Bring  them  back, 


Martha  127 

or  ye  shall  suffer  for  it.  Be  off ! "  And  the  men  mounted 
horses  and  went  after  the  rimaways  like  the  wind. 

''Nice  treatment!" 

"Shameful!"  Plunkett  cried,  dropping  into  a  chair, 
nearly  fainting  with  rage. 

ACT  III 

Plunkett's  men  had  hunted  far  and  wide  for  the  run- 
aways, but  without  success.  The  farmer  was  still  sore 
over  his  defeat:  he  felt  himself  not  only  defrauded,  but 
he  had  grown  to  love  Nancy,  and  altogether  he  became 
very  unhappy.  One  day  he  was  sitting  with  his  fellow 
farmers  around  a  table  in  a  little  forest  inn,  drinking  his 
glass  of  beer,  when  he  heard  the  sound  of  hunting  horns 
in  the  distance. 

"Hello!  a  hunting  party  from  the  palace  must  be  out," 
he  remarked,  but  the  music  of  the  horn  which  once  pleased 
him  could  no  longer  arouse  him  from  his  moodiness. 
Nevertheless  an  extraordinary  thing  was  about  to  happen. 
As  he  went  into  the  inn  for  a  moment,  into  the  grove 
whirled  —  Nancy !  all  bespangled  in  a  rich  hunting  cos- 
tume and  accompanied  by  her  friends  who  were  enjoy- 
ing the  hunt  with  her.  They  were  singing  a  rousing  hunt- 
ing chorus,  but  Martha  —  Lady  Harriet  —  was  not  with 
them. 

"What  has  happened  to  Lady  Harriet?"  some  one 
questioned  of  Nancy,  who  was  expected  to  know  all  her 
secrets. 

"Alas  —  nothing  interests  her  ladyship  any  more," 
she  replied!  Nancy  knew  {perfectly  well  that,  ever  since 
their  escapade,  Harriet  had  thought  of  nothing  but  Lionel. 
For  Nancy's  part,  she  had  not  thought  of  much  besides 


128 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


Plunkett;  but  she  did  not  mean  to  reveal  the  situation 
to  the  court  busybodies.  Then  while  the  huntresses 
were  roaming  about  the  inn,  out  came  Plunkett!  and 
Nancy,  not  perceiving  at  first  who  he  was,  went  up  to 
him  and  began  to  speak. 

"Pray,  my  good  man,  can  you  tell  —  Good  heaven!" 
she  exclaimed,  recognizing  him;    "Plunkett!" 

"Yes,  madame,  Plunkett;  and  now  Plunkett  will  see 
if  you  get  the  better  of  him  a  second  time.  We'll  let  the 
sheriff  settle  this  matter,  right  on  the  spot." 

"Man,  you  are  mad.  Do  not  breathe  my  name  or 
each  huntress  here  shall  take  aim  and  bring  you  down. 
Ho,  there!"  she  cried  distractedly  to  her  friends;  and  she 
took  aim  at  Plunkett,  while  all  of  the  others  closed  round 
him.     It  was  then  Plunkett's  turn  to  beg  for  mercy. 

"They're  upon  me,  they've  undone  me!"  he  cried. 
"This  is  serious,"  and  so  indeed  it  was.  "But  oh,  dear 
me,  there  is  a  remarkable  charm  in  these  girls,  even  if 
they  do  threaten  a  man's  life,"  and  still  looking  back 
over  his  shoulder,  away  he  ran,  pursued  by  the  girls. 
They  had  no  sooner  gone  than  Lionel  came  in.  He  was 
looking  disconsolately  at  the  flowers  to  which  Martha 
sang  the  "Last  Rose  of  Summer."  He  himself  sang  a 
few  measures  of  the  song  and  then  looked  about  him. 

"Ah,"  he  sighed,  thinking  still  of  Martha; 


m 


-i=*- 


*^ 


E^ 


j^ 


f 


-^^SM. 


U 


None      so —    rare        None     so        fair,        Yet    en- 


9 — r— rf— 1 •■ 


^^ 


-(=2- 


-■■^ 


rap — tur'd       mor  —  tal  —  heartj    Maid — en        dear, 


Martha 


129 


tJ 


Past    com — pare,    Oh,  _ 'twas  death from  thee    to 


-=^#- 


part!- 


Ere    I        saw    thy  sweet    face    On    my 


^ 


y- 


-y- 


^ 


? 


^ 


heart  there  was    no    trace      Of      that    love    from    a- 
3— r-#—  N 


f 


;^^ 


-•- 


-b- 


^^ 


bove,    That    in      sor— row    now      I      prove;  but    a- 


tfe- 


b«- 


^ 


-V- 


:i2*=tti 


=^ 


las,       thou    art    gone,     And     in      grief    I  mourn    a- 


-?— J 


:t*: 


=t=: 


i^r-J 


lone; 


Life    a        shad— ow    doth    seem,    And    my 


rare,      etc. 


And  after  he  had  sung  thus  touchingly  of  Martha,  he 
threw  himself  down  on  the  grass,  and  remained  absorbed 
in  his  thoughts.     But  wliiJe  he  was  resting  there,  Lady 


130  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Harriet  and  Sir  Tristram  had  also  wandered  thither.  At 
first  they  did  not  see  Lionel. 

"I  have  come  here  away  from  the  others,  in  order  to 
bealone,"  Harriet  declared  impatiently. 

"Alone'^with  me?"    Sir  Tristram  asked  indiscreetly. 

"  Good  heaven — it  doesn't  matter  in  the  least  whether 
you  are  here  or  elsewhere.  I  am  quite  unconscious  of 
you,  wherever  you  are,"  she  replied,  not  very  graciously. 
"Do  go  away  and  let  me  alone!"  and,  finding  that  he 
could  not  please  her,  Tristram  wandered  ofif,  and  left  her 
meditating  there.  After  a  while  she  began  to  sing  to 
herself,  softly,  and  Lionel  recognized  the  voice. 

"It  is  she  !—  Martha!"  he  cried,  starting  up.  Harriet 
recognized  him,  and  at  once  found  herself  in  a  dreadful 
state  of  mind. 

"What  shall  I  do?  It  is  Lionel!  that  farmer  I  hired 
out  to!"  Well!  It  was  Lionel's  opportunity,  and  he 
fell  to  making  the  most  desperate  love  to  her  —  which 
she  liked  very  much,  but  which,  being  a  highborn  lady 
of  Queen  Anne's  Court,  she  was  bound  to  resent.  She 
called  him  base-born  and  a  good  many  unpleasant  things, 
which  did  not  seem  to  discourage  him  in  the  least,  even 
though  it  made  him  feel  rather  badly;  but  while  he  was 
still  protesting  liis  love,  Tristram  returned,  and  at  once 
believed  Harriet  to  be  in  the  toils  of  some  dreadful  fellow. 
So  he  called  loudly  for  everybody  in  the  hunt  to  come  to 
the  rescue  —  which  was  about  the  most  foolish  thing 
he  could  do.  Then  all  set  upon  Lionel.  Plunkett,  hear- 
ing the  row,  rushed  in. 

"Stand   by   me!"    Lionel   cried. 

Nancy  appeared.  "What  does  this  mean?"  she  in 
turn  demanded  in  a  high-handed  manner. 

"Julia,  too,"  Lionel  shouted,  recognizing  her. 


Martha  j^j 

"Bind  this  madman  in  fetters,"  Tristram  ordered. 

"Don't  touch  him,"  Plunkett  threatened. 

"I  shall  die,"  Nancy  declared. 
^^  "I  engaged  these  girls  in  my  service,"  Lionel  shouted, 
"and  now  they  wish  to  break  the  bargain!" 

"What?"  everybody  screamed,  staring  at  Nancy  and 
Harriet.  Tristram  and  the  hunters  laughed,  Tristram 
trying  to  shield  the  girls  and  turn  it  into  a  joke. 

"Have  compassion  on  this  madman";  Harriet  pleaded 
wincing  when  she  saw  Lionel  bound  and  helpless.  Lionel 
then  reproached  her.  She  knew  perfectly  that  she  de- 
served it  and  felt  her  love  for  him  growing  greater. 
Everybody  was  in  a  most  dreadful  state  of  mind.  Then  a 
page  rushed  in  and  cried  that  Queen  Anne  was  coming 
toward  them,  and  immediately  Lionel  had  an  inspiration. 
"Take  this  ring  to  her  Majesty  —  quick,"  he  cried 
handing  his  ring  to  Plunkett.  ' 

A  litter  was  then  brought  for  Lady  Harriet.  She 
heartbroken,  stepped  into  it.  Lionel  was  pinioned  and 
was  bemg  dragged  off.  Plunkett  held  up  the  ring,  to 
assure  him  that  it  should  straightway  be  taken  to  'the 
Queen. 


ACT  IV 


After  the  row  had  quieted  down  and  Nancy  and 
Harriet  got  time  to  think  matters  over,  Harriet  reached 
the  conclusion  that  she  could  not  endure  Lionel's  mis- 
fortune. Hence  she  had  got  Nancy  to  accompany  her 
to  the  farmer's  house.  When  they  arrived  some  new 
maid  whom  the  farmers  had  got  opened  the  door  to  them. 

"Go,  Nancy,  and  find  Plunkett,  Lionel's  trusty  friend, 
and  tell  him  I  am  repentant  and  cannot  endure  Lionel's 
misfortunes.     Tell  him  his  friend  is  to  have  hope  "  and 


132  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

obeying  her  beloved  Lady  Harriet,  Nancy  departed  to 
find  Plunkett  and  give  the  message.  In  a  few  minutes 
she  returned  with  the  farmer.  He  now  knew  who  the 
ladies  were  and  treated  Harriet  most  respectfully. 

"Have  you  told  him?"  Lady  Harriet  asked. 

"Yes,  but  we  cannot  make  Lionel  understand  anything. 
He  sits  vacantly  gazing  at  nothing.  He  has  had  so 
much  trouble,  that  probably  his  brain  is  turned." 

"Let  us  see,"  said  Harriet;  and  instantly  she  began  to 
sing,  "  'Tis  the  Last  Rose." 

While  she  sang,  Lionel  entered  slowly.  He  had  heard. 
Harriet  ran  to  him  and  would  have  thrown  herself  into 
his  arms,  but  he  held  her  off,  fearing  she  was  again  de- 
ceiving him. 

"No,  no,  I  repent,  and  it  was  I  who  took  thy  ring  to 
the  Queen!  I  have  learned  that  thy  father  was  a  noble- 
man —  the  great  Earl  of  Derby;  and  the  Queen  sends 
the  message  to  thee  that  she  would  undo  the  wrong  done 
thee.  Thou  art  the  Earl  of  Derby  —  and  I  love  thee  — 
so  take  my  hand  if  thou  wilt  have  me." 

Well,  this  was  all  very  well,  but  Lionel  was  not  in- 
clined to  be  played  fast  and  loose  with  in  that  fashion. 
When  he  was  a  plain  farmer,  she  had  nothing  of  this  sort 
to  say  to  him,  however  she  may  have  felt. 

"No,"  he  declared,  "I  will  have  none  of  it!  Leave  me, 
all  of  you,"  and  he  rushed  off,  whereupon  Harriet  sank 
upon  a  bench,  quite  overcome.  Then  suddenly  she 
started  up. 

"Ah  —  I  have  a  thought!"  and  out  she  flew.  While 
she  was  gone,  the  farmer  and  Nancy,  who  had  really  be- 
gun to  care  greatly  for  each  other,  confessed  their  love. 

"Now  that  our  affairs  are  no  longer  in  confusion,  let 
us  go  out  and  walk  and  talk  it  over,"  Plunkett  urged, 


Martha  i^j 

and,  Nancy  being  quite  willing,  they  went  out.  But 
when  they  got  outside  they  found  to  their  amazement 
that  Plunkett's  farmhands  were  rushing  hither  and 
thither,  putting  up  tents  and  booths  and  flags,  and  turn- 
ing the  yard  into  a  regular  fair-ground,  such  as  the  scene 
appeared  when  Lionel  and  Harriet  first  met.  Some  of 
the  girls  on  the  farm  were  assuming  the  r6Ie  of  maids 
looking  for  service,  and,  in  short,  everything  was  as  nearly 
like  the  original  scene  as  they  could  possibly  make  it  in 
a  short  time. 

"What,  what  is  all  this?"  Plunkett  asked,  amazed. 
Then  he  learned  it  was  all  done  by  Harriet's  orders,  and 
he  and  Nancy  began  to  understand.  Then  Harriet 
came  in,  dressed  as  Martha.  Nancy  ran  off  and  returned 
dressed  as  Julia,  and  then  all  was  complete. 

"There  is  Lionel  coming  toward  us,"  Nancy  cried. 
"What  will  happen  now?"  and  there  he  came,  led  sadly 
by  Plunkett.  He  looked  about  him,  dazed,  till  Plunkett 
brought  up  Lady  Harriet  and  presented  her  as  a  maid 
seeking  work. 

"Heaven !    It  is  Martha " 

"Yes,  is  this  not  enough  to  prove  to  thee  that  I  am 
ready  to  renounce  my  rank  and  station  for  thee?  Here 
I  am,  seeking  thy  service,"  she  pleaded. 

"Well,  good  lassies,  what  can  ye  do?"  Plunkett  asked, 
entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing,  and  then  Nancy 
gaily  sang: 

I  for  spinning  finest  linen,  etc. 

Lady  Harriet  gave  Lionel  some  flowers  and  then  be- 
gan "  'Tis  the  Last  Rose."  Then  presently,  Lionel,  who 
had  been  recovering  himself  slowly  while  the  play  had 
been  going  on,  joined  in  the  last  measures,  and  holding 


134  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

out  his  arms  to  Lady  Harriet,  the  lovers  were  united. 
Nancy  and  Plunkett  were  having  the  gayest  sort  of  a 
time,  and  everybody  was  singing  at  the  top  of  his  voice 
that  from  that  time  forth  there  should  be  nothing  but 
gaiety  and  joy  in  the  world;  and  probably  that  turned 
out  to  be  true  for  everybody  but  old  Sir  Tristram,  who 
hadn't  had  a  stroke  of  good  luck  since  the  curtain  rose 
on  the  first  act! 


HUMPERDINCK 

^T^HIS  composer  of  charming  music  will  furnish  better 
J-     biographical  material  fifty  years  hence.     At  present 
we  must  be  satisfied  to  listen  to  his  compositions,  and 
leave  the  study  of  the  man  to  future  generations. 

HANSEL  AND   GRETEL 

CHAKACTERS   OF   THE   OPEBA 

Peter,  a  broom-maker. 
Gertrude,  his  wife. 

Gretel     |  ^^^^^  children. 

Witch,  who  eats  httle  children. 

San(iman,  who  puts  h'ttle  children  to  sleep. 

Dewman,  who  wakes  little  children  up. 

Children. 

Fourteen  angels. 

The  story  takes  place  in  a  German  forest. 

Composer:  E.  Humpcrdinck. 
Author:  Adelheid  Wette. 

ACT    I 

Once  upon  a  time,  in  a  far-off  forest  of  Germany, 
there  lived  two  little  children,  Hansel  and  Gretel,  with 
their  father  and  mother.  The  father  and  mother  made 
brooms  for  a  living,  and  the  children  helped  them  by 
doing  the  finishing  of  the  brooms. 

The  broom  business  had  been  very, very  bad  for  a  long 
time,  and  the  poor  father  and  mother  were  nearly  dis- 
couraged.    The  father,  however,  was  a  happy-go-lucky 

135 


136 


operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


man  who  usually  accepted  his  misfortunes  easily.  It 
was  fair-time  in  a  village  near  the  broom-makers'  hut, 
and  one  morning  the  parents  started  off  to  see  if  their 
luck  wouldn't  change.  They  left  the  children  at  home, 
charging  them  to  be  industrious  and  orderly  in  behaviour 
till  they  returned,  and  Hansel  in  particular  was  to  spend 
his  time  j&nishing  oflF  some  brooms. 

Now  it  is  the  hardest  thing  in  the  world  for  Uttle  chil- 
dren to  stick  to  a  long  task,  so  that  which  might  have 
been  expected  happened:  Hansel  and  Gretel  ceased  after 
a  little  to  work,  and  began  to  think  how  hungry  they 
were.  Hansel  was  seated  in  the  doorway,  working  at 
the  brooms;  brooms  were  hanging  up  on  the  walls  of 
the  poor  little  cottage;  and  Gretel  sat  knitting  a  stock- 
ing near  the  fire.  Being  a  gay  little  girl,  she  sang  to 
pass  the  time: 


^ 


y  1  f  •  g_g^ 


^^^ 


fc=p=it- 


Su — sy    lit-tle    Su — sy,  pray  what  is    the    news? 


ijcza: 


'jThe  geese  are  running  bare  foot  because  they've  no    shoes! 


4t 


:^=f!^ 


The  cobbler    has    leather    and    plen — ty    to    spare, 


^ 


t  y   1-p 


3 


b 


Why  can't  he  make  the  poor  goose  a  new  pair? 


Ednsel  atid  Gretel  137 

This  sounded  rather  gay,  and,  before  he  knew  it,  Han- 
sel had  joined  in: 

Eia  popeia,  pray  what's  to  be  done? 

Who'll  give  me  milk  and  sugar,  for  bread  I  have  none? 

I'll  go  back  to  bed  and  I'll  lie  there  all  day, 

Where  there's  naught  to  eat,  then  there's  nothing  to  pay, 

"Speaking  of  something  to  eat  —  I'm  as  hungry  as 
a  wolf,  Gretel.  We  haven't  had  anything  but  bread 
in  weeks." 

"Well,  it  does  no  good  to  complain,  does  it?  Why 
don't  you  do  as  father  does  —  laugh  and  make  the  best 
of  it?"  Gretel  answered,  letting  her  knitting  fall  in  her 
lap.  "If  you  will  stop  grumbling,  Hansel,  I'll  tell  you 
a  secret  —  it's  a  fine  one  too."  She  got  up  and  tiptoed 
over  to  the  table.  "Come  here  and  look  in  this  jug," 
she  called,  and  Hansel  in  his  turn  tiptoed  over,  as  if 
something  ver>'  serious  indeed  would  happen  should 
any  one  hear  him. 

"Look  in  that  jug  —  a  neighbour  gave  us  some 
milk  to-day,  and  that  is  likely  to  mean  rice  blanc- 
mange." 

"Oh,  gracious  goodness!  I'll  be  found  near  when  rice 
blanc-mange  is  going  on;  be  sure  of  that.  How  thick 
is  the  cream?"  the  greedy  fellow  asked,  dipping  his 
finger  into  the  jug. 

"Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself!  Take  your  fingers 
out  of  that  jug,  Hansel,  and  get  back  to  your  work. 
You'll  get  a  good  pounding  if  mother  comes  home  and 
finds  you  cutting  up  tricks." 

"No,  I'm  not  going  to  work  any  more  —  I'm  going 
to  dance." 

"Well,  I  admit  dancing  is  good  fun,"  Gretel  answered 
him   reluctantly.     "We  can   dance  a    little,    and    sing 


138  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

to  keep  us    in  time,  and    then  we    can   go  back    to 

work." 

Brother,  come  and  dance  with  me, 

Both  my  hands  I  offer  thee, 

Right  foot  first, 

Left  foot  then, 

Round  about  and  back  again. 

she  sang,  holding  out  her  hands. 

"I  don't  know  how,  or  I  would,"  Hansel  declared, 
watching  her  as  she  spun  about. 

"Then  I'll  teach  you.  Just  keep  your  eyes  on  me  and 
I'll  teach  you  just  how  to  do  it,"  she  cried,  and  then  she 
began  to  dance.  Gretel  told  him  precisely  how  to  do 
it,  and  Hansel  learned  very  well  and  very  quickly.  Then 
they  danced  together,  and  in  half  a  minute  had  forgotten 
all  about  going  back  to  their  work.  They  twirled  and 
laughed  and  sang  and  shouted  in  the  wildest  sort  of  glee, 
and  at  last,  perfectly  exhausted  with  so  much  fun,  they 
tumbled  over  one  another  upon  the  floor,  and  were 
laughing  too  hard  to  get  up.  Just  at  this  moment, 
when  they  had  actually  forgotten  all  about  hunger  and 
work,  home  came  their  mother.  She  opened  the  door 
and  looked  in. 

"  For  mercy's  sake !  what  goings  on  are  these?  "  she  cried. 

"Why,  it  was  Hansel,  he " 

"  Gretel  wanted  to "  they  both  began,  scrambling 

to  their  feet. 

"That  will  do.  I  want  to  hear  nothing  from  you. 
You  are  the  most  ill-behaved  children  in  the  world. 
Here  are  your  father  and  I  slaving  ourselves  to  death 
for  you,  and  not  a  thing  do  you  do  but  dance  and  sing 
from  morning  till  night " 

"It  would  be  awfully  nice  to  eat,  too,"  Hansel  replied 
reflectively. 


Hansel  and  Gretel  130 

"What's  that  you  say,  you  ungrateful  child?  Don't 
you  eat  whenever  the  rest  of  us  do?"  However  harsh 
she  seemed,  the  mother  was  only  angry  at  the  thought 
of  there  being  nothing  in  the  house  to  eat,  and  she  felt 
so  badly  to  think  the  children  were  hungry  that  she  made 
a  dive  at  Hansel  to  slap  him,  when— horrors !  she 
knocked  the  milk  off  the  table,  broke  the  jug,  and  all 
the  milk  went  streaming  over  the  floor.  This  was  in- 
deed a  misfortune.  There  they  stood,  all  three  looking 
at  their  lost  supper. 

"Now  see  what  you  have  done?"  she  screamed  angrily 
at  the  children.  ''Get  yourselves  out  of  here.  If  you 
want  any  supper  you'll  have  to  work  for  it.  Take  that 
basket  and  go  into  the  wood  and  fill  it  with  strawberries, 
and  don't  either  of  you  come  home  till  it  is  full.  Dear 
me,  it  does  seem  as  if  I  had  trouble  enough  without 
such  actions  as  yours,"  the  distracted  mother  cried; 
and  quite  unjustly  she  hustled  the  children  and  their 
basket  outside  the  hut  and  off  into  the  wood. 

They  had  no  sooner  gone  out  than  the  poor,  distracted 
woman,  exhausted  with  the  day's  tramping  and  un- 
successful effort  to  sell  her  brooms,  sat  at  the  table 
weeping  over  the  lost  milk;  and  finally  she  fell  asleep. 
After  a  while  a  merry  song  was  heard  in  the  wood,  and 
the  father  presently  appeared  singing,  at  the  very  thresh- 
old. Really,  for  a  hungry  man  with  a  hungry  family  and 
nothing  for  supper,  he  was  in  a  remarkably  merry  mood. 
"Ho,  there,  vafe:"  he  called,  and  then  entered  with 
a  great  basket  over  his  shoulder.  He  saw  the  mother 
asleep  and  stopped  singing.  Then  he  laughed  and  went 
over  to  her. 

"Hey,  wake  up,  old  lady,  hustle  yourself  and  get  us 
a  supper.     Where  are  the  cliildren?" 


140  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"What  are  you  talking  about,"  the  mother  asked, 
waking  up  and  looking  confused  at  the  noise  her  hus- 
band was  making.  "I  can't  get  any  supper  when  there 
is  nothing  to  get." 

"Nothing  to  get?  —  well,  that  is  nice  talk,  I'm  sure. 
We'll  see  if  there  is  nothing  to  get,"  he  answered,  roaring 
with  laughter  —  and  he  began  to  take  things  out  of  his 
basket.  First  he  took  out  a  ham,  then  some  butter. 
Flour  and  sausages  followed,  and  then  a  dozen  eggs; 
turnips,  and  onions,  and  finally  some  tea.  Then  at  last 
the  good  fellow  turned  the  basket  upside  down,  and  out 
rolled  a  lot  of  potatoes. 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  all  of  these  things  come  from?  " 
she  cried. 

"I  had  good  luck  with  my  brooms,  when  all  seemed 
lost,  and  here  we  are  with  a  feast  before  us.  Now  call 
the  children  and  let  us  begin." 

"I  was  so  angry  because  the  milk  got  spilt  that  I  sent 
them  off  to  the  woods  for  berries  and  told  them  not  to 
come  home  till  they  had  a  basket  full.  I  really  thought 
that  was  all  we  should  have  for  supper."  At  this  the 
father  looked  frightened. 

"What  if  they  have  gone  to  the  Ilsenstein?"  he  cried, 
jumping  up  and  taking  a  broom  from  the  wall . 

"Well,  what  harm?"  the  wife  inquired,  "and  why  do 
you  take  the  broom?" 

"What  harm?  Do  you  not  know  that  it  is  the  awful 
magic  mountain  where  the  old  witch  who  eats  little 
children  dwells?  —  and  do  you  not  know  that  she  rides 
on  a  broomstick.  I  m^ay  need  one  to  follow  her,  in  case 
she  has  got  the  children." 

"Oh,  heavens  above!  WTiat  a  wicked  woman  I  was 
to  send  the  children  out.     What  shall  we  do?     Do  you 


Hansel  and  Gretel  141 

know  anything  more  about  that  awful   ogress?"  she 
demanded  of  her  husband,  trembling  fit  to  die. 

An  old  witch  within  that  wood  doth  dwell, 
And  she's  in  league  with  the  powers  of  hell. 
At  midnight  hour, 

When  nobody  knows. 

Away  to  the  witches'  dance  she  goes. 

Up  the  chimney  they  fly, 

On  a  broomstick  they  hie, 

Over  hill  and  dale, 

O'er  ravine  and  vale. 

Through  the  midnight  air 

They  gallop  full  tear, 

On  a  broomstick,  on  a  broomstick 

Hop,  hop,  hop,  hop,  the  witches! 

And  by  day,  they  say. 

She  stalks  around, 

With  a  crinching,  crunching,  munching  sound. 

And  children  plump,  and  tender  to  eat. 

She  lures  with  magic  gingerbread  sweet. 

On  evil  bent, 

With  fell  intent. 

She  krfes  the  children,  poor  Httle  things, 
In  the  oven  hot. 
She  pops  the  lot, 
She  shuts  the  door  down, 
Until  they're  done  bro^m  —  all  those  gingerbread  children. 

"Oh,  my  soul!"  the  poor  woman  shrieked.  "Cornel 
We  must  lose  no  time:  Hansel  and  Gretel  may  be  baked 
to  cinders  by  this  time,"  and  out  she  ran,  screaming,  and 
followed  by  the  father,  to  look  for  those  poor  children. 


ACT   II 

After  wandering  all  the  afternoon  in  the  great  forest, 
and  filling  their  basket  with  strawberries,  Hansel  and 
Gretel  came  to  a  beautiful  mossy  tree-trunk  where  they 
concluded  to  sit  down  and  rest  before  going  home.     They 


142  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

had  wandered  so  far  that  they  really  didn't  know  that 
they  were  lost,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  they  had  no  notion 
o  where  they  were.  Without  knowing  it,  they  had  gone 
as  far  as  the  Ilsenstein,  and  that  magic  place  was'ust 
behind  hem,  and  sunset  had  already  come.  As  usual  the 
gay  httle  girl  was  singing  while  she  twined  a  garland  of 
mW  flowers.  Hansel  was  still  looking  for  berries  in 
the  thicket  near.  Pretty  soon  they  heard  a  cuckoo  call, 
and  they  answered  the  call  gaily.  The  cuckoo  answered 
and  the  calls  between  them  became  lively 

"There  is  the  bird  that  eats  up  other  birds'  e-gs  " 
Gretel  said,  poking  a  strawberry  into  Hansel's  mouth- 
and  Hansel  sucked  the  berry  up  as  ii  it  were  an    egg' 
Then  m  his  turn,  he  poked  a  berry  into  Gretel's  mouth 
This  was  very  good  fun,  especially  as  yot  they  had  had 
nothing  to.  eat.     They  began  to  feed  each  other  with 
berries,  till  before  they  knew  it  the  full  basket  was  empty 
Foolish  children,  who  by  their  carelessness  got  them- 
selves into  all  sorts  of  scrapes!    No^  what  was  to  be 
done?    They  surely  couldn't  go  home  and  tell   their 
mother  they  had  eaten  up  all  the  berries! 
_  "Hansel,  you  have  eaten  all  the  berries.     Now  this 
time  It  IS  no  joke  -  this  that  you  have  done.     What 
shall  we  do  now?" 

"Nonsense  -  you  ate  as  many  as  I.     We  shall  simply 
look  for  more."  ^^ 

"So  late  as  this!  We  never  can  see  them  in  the  world 
.he  sun  IS  going  down.  Where  can  we  have  got  to? 
We  are  surely  lost." 

"Well  if  we  are,  there  is  nothing  to  be  afraid  of 
Come,  don't  cry.  We  shall  sleep  here  under  the  trees,' 
and,  when  morning  comes,  find  our  way  home,"  Hansel 
replied,  no  longer  blaming  her,  but  trying  to  be  very 


Hansel  and  Gretel  143 

brave,  notwithstanding  he  was  nearly  scared  to  death 
with  the  shadows  which  were  then  gathering  quickly. 

"Oh,  oh!  do  you  hear  that  noise  in  the  bushes?  I 
shall  die  of  fright." 

"It  — it— is  nothing,  sister,"  Hansel  answered,  his 
teeth  chattering,  wliile  he  peered  all  about  him  uneasily. 
''I'm  a  boy  and  not  afraid  of  anything,  and  can  take 
care  of  you  wherever  we  are." 

What's  glimmering  there  in  the  darkness? 
That's  only  the  birches  in  silver  dress. 
But  there,  what's  grinning  so  there  at  me? 
Th-that's  only  the  stump  of  a  willow  tree. 

Hansel  tried  to  answer  heroically.  "I'll  give  a  good 
call,"  he  said,  going  a  little  way  toward  the  Ilsenstein. 
Then  putting  his  hands  to  his  mouth,  he  called  loudly: 

"Who's  there?" 

"You  there, —you  there, —you  there,"  tlie  echoes 
came  —  but  they  seemed  to  come  from  the  Ilsenstein. 

"Is  some  one  there?"   Gretel  timidly  asked. 

"There— where  — there  — "  the  echoes  from  the 
Ilsenstein  again  replied.  "I'm  frightened  to  death," 
Gretel  said,  beginning  to  cry. 

"Little  Gretelkin,"  said  Hansel,  "you  stick  close  to 
me,  and  I'll  let  nothing  hurt  you;"  and  while  they  huddled 
together,  a  thick  white  mist  slowly  gathered  and  spread 
between  the  children  and  the  Ilsenstein. 

"Oh!  there  are  some  shado-wy  old  women,  coming  to 
carry  me  away,"  Gretel  sobbed,  hiding  her  face,  as  the 
mist  seemed  to  sway  and  assume  strange  forms.  Then 
while  her  face  was  hidden,  the  mist  slowly  cleared  away, 
and  a  little  gray  manikin  with  a  little  sack  upon  his  back 
came    out    of    the   shadows.       Hansel   held   his    breath 


144  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

with  fear  and  sheltered    Gretel  beside  him  as  best  he 
could. 

"It  is  a  shadowy  queer  little  manikin,  Gretel  dear, 
with  a  little  sack  upon  his  back,  but  he  looks  very  friendly." 
Then  addressing  the  Uttle  manikin,  "Do  not  hurt  us, 
sir  —  and  will  you  tell  us  who  you  are?" 

I  shut  the  children's  peepers  —  sh! 
And  guard  the  little  sleepers  —  sh! 
For  dearly  I  do  love  them  —  sh! 
And  gladly  watch  above  them  —  sh! 

And  with  my  little  bag  of  sand, 

By  every  child's  bedside  I  stand; 

Then  little  tired  eyehds  close, 

And  httle  hmbs  have  sweet  repose; 
And  if  they  are  good  and  quickly  go  to  sleep, 

Then  from  the  starry  sphere  above 

The  angels  come  with  peace  and  love, 
And  send  the  children  happy  dreams,  while  watch  they  keep. 

All  the  while  the  little  sand-man  was  telling  them  who 
he  was,  the  children  got  sleepier  and  sleepier  and  nodded 
upon  each  other's  shoulders. 

"The  sand-man  was  here?"  little  Hansel  asked,  trying 
to  rouse  a  bit. 

"I  guess  so,"  said  Gretel;  "let  us  say  our  prayers," 
and  so  they  folded  their  hands,  and  said  a  little  prayer 
to  the  fourteen  angels  which  guard  little  children.  They 
prayed  to  the  two  angels  who  should  stand  at  their  head, 
to  the  two  at  their  feet,  two  upon  their  right  hand  and 
two  upon  the  left,  and  two  should  cover  them  warm, 
and  two  should  guard  them  from  harm,  and  two  shotild 
guide  them  one  day  to  Heaven;  and  so  they  sank  to 
sleep. 

As  they  slept,  a  beautiful  light  broke  through  the  mist, 
which  rolled  up  into  a  glittering  staircase  down  which 
those  angels  came,  two  and  two.  They  all  grouped  about 
Hansel  and  Gretel  as  they  had  been  prayed  to  do;  and 


Hansel  and  Gretcl  145 

as  they  silently  took  their  places  the  night  grew  dark, 
the  trees  and  birds  all  slept,  and  Hansel  and  Gretel 
were  safe  until  the  morning. 

ACT    III 

The  night  had  passed,  the  angels  had  disappeared 
again  in  the  mist  which  still  hung  over  the  forest  at  the 
back,  and  now  as  dawn  broke,  the  dew-fairy  came  out 
of  the  mist  as  the  manikin  and  the  angels  had  done; 
and  from  a  little  blue  bell  she  shook  the  dewdrops  over 
the  children's  eyes.  Just  as  they  began  to  stir,  away 
ran  the  dew-fairy,  and  when  they  were  quite  wide  awake 
they  found  the  sun  rising  and  themselves  all  alone. 

"Hansel,  where  are  we?"  little  Gretel  asked,  not 
recalling  all  that  had  happened  to  them  since  the  day 
before.  "I  hear  the  birds  twittering  high  in  the  branches. 
We  certainly  are  not  in  our  beds  at  home." 

"No  —  but  I  had  a  fine  dream,"  Hansel  answered  — 
"that  the  angels  were  here  looking  after  us  all  night, 
the  entire  fourteen.  But  look  there!"  he  cried,  pointing 
behind  them.  The  mist  was  gradually  lifting  and  re- 
vealing the  house  of  the  Witch  of  Ilsenstein.  It  looked 
very  fine,  with  the  sun's  bright  rays  upon  it;  very  fine 
indeed!  A  little  way  off  to  the  left  of  that  queer  little 
house  was— an  oven.  Oh,  dreadful!  It  was  well 
Hansel  and  Gretel  did  not  know  in  the  least  what  that 
oven  meant.  Then,  on  the  other  side  of  the  house,  was 
a  cage  — and  heaven!  it  was  certainly  well  that  they 
had  no  idea  of  what  that  was  for,  either.  Then,  joining 
that  cage  to  the  house,  was  a  queer-looking  fence  of 
gingerbread,  and  it  looked  strangely  like  little  children. 
"Oh,  what  a  queer  place!"  Gretel  cried.     "And  do 


146  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

you  smell  that  delicious  odour?    That  cottage  is  made 
ail  of  chocolate  cream!"    She  was  overcome  with  joy. 

The  roof  is  all  covered  with  Turkish  delight, 
The  windows  with  lustre  of  sugar  are  white 
And  on  all  the  gables  the  raisins  invite, 
And  think!    All  around  is  a  gingerbread  hedge. 

"Oh,  to  eat  such  a  cottage!"  they  cried  ecstatically. 

"I  hear  no  sound.    Let's  go  inside,"  Hansel  urged. 

"No,  no!  Who  knows  who  may  live  in  that  lovely 
house." 

"Well,  anyway,  it  can't  do  any  harm  to  nibble  a  little. 
They  can  have  it  repaired  next  baking  day,"  he  persisted. 

"Maybe  that  is  true,  —  and  it  does  look  too  good 
to  leave";  so  Hansel  reached  out  and  broke  a  little  piece 
of  the  house-corner  off. 

Nibble,  nibble,  mousekin, 
Who's  nibbling  at  my  housekin? 

a  voice  called  from  within. 

"Good  gracious!  Did  you  hear  that?"  he  whispered, 
dropping  the  corner  of  the  house.  Gretel  picked  it  up, 
hesitatingly. 

"It's  most  awfully  good,"  she  declared,  but  at  that 
very  minute  came  the  voice  again: 

Nibble,  nibble,  mousekin. 
Who's  nibbling  at  my  housekin? 

"Maybe  that  is  the  voice  of  the  sweety  maker,"  Hansel 
suggested,  all  the  same  a  good  deal  scared.  And  so  they 
went  on  nibbling  at  a  bit  of  the  fence  and  then  at  the 
house-corner,  until  they  became  so  full  of  good  things 
that  they  began  to  laugh  and  caper  about  in  high  spirits. 
But  while  all  this  fun  was  going  on,  the  upper  part  of 
the  door  opened  and  the  old  witch  stuck  her  head  out. 


Hansel  and  Gretel  147 

Then  slowly  and  softly,  out  she  crept  with  a  rope  in  her 
hand,  and  getting  behind  the  children  she  suddenly  threw 
it  over  Hansel's  head.  When  he  turned  and  saw  her  he 
was  frightened  almost  into  fits. 

"Let  me  go,  let  me  go!"  he  howled,  while  the  witch 
only  laughed  hideously  at  the  two  and,  drawing  them 
closer  to  her,  she  began  to  pat  their  heads  and  talk  very 
nicely  to  them. 

"You  are  lovely  children!  Don't  give  yourselves 
such  airs.  I  am  Rosina  Dainty-Mouth  and  just  love 
little  children  liJce  you,"  but  she  didn't  say  how  she 
preferred  them  —broiled  or  stewed.  Nevertheless,  Hansel 
had  his  doubts  about  her,  in  spite  of  her  affectionate 
pretensions. 

Come,  little  mousey, 
Come  into  my  housey! 
Come  with  me,  precious  my, 
I'll  give  you  sweets,  delicious! 

This  extraordinary  old  lady  cried,  naming  things  that 
made  the  children's  mouths  water.  But  there  was 
Hansel's  caution!  He  was  not  to  be  caught  napping 
after  sunrise.  Gretel,  however,  recalled  the  flavour 
of  the  eave-spout  which  she  had  lately  tasted  and  could 
not  help  showing  a  certain  amount  of  interest. 

"Just  what  shall  I  get  if  I  go  into  your  housey?"  she 
inquired;  but  before  the  old  creature  could  reply,  Hansel 
had  pulled  Gretel's  petticoat. 

"Have  a  care!  Do  not  take  anything  from  her  that 
you  can  help.  She  is  meaning  to  fatten  us  and  cook 
us," —  which  was  the  exact  truth.  At  that  mom.ent. 
Hansel  gf,t  clear  of  the  rope  which  had  been  about  his' 
neck  and  ran  to  Gretel,  but  the  old  witch  pointed  at  them 
a  slick  which  had  been  han-jng  at  her    gfrdle,  and  in- 


148  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

stantly  they  found  themselves  spell-bound.  She  re- 
peated this  blood-curdling  rhyme,  and  there  they  stood, 
quite  helpless: 

Hocus  pocus,  witches'  charm! 
Move  not  as  you  fear  my  arm. 
Back  or  forward,  do  not  try, 
Fixed  you  are,  by  tlie  evil  eye! 

And  "fixed"  they  were.  Now,  right  in  the  middle  of 
the  forenoon,  it  began  to  grow  horribly  dark,  and  as  it 
darkened,  the  little  knob  on  the  end  of  her  stick  began  to 
glow  brilliantly,  and  as  Hansel  watched  it,  fascinated, 
the  witch  gradually  led  him,  by  the  stick's  charm,  into 
the  stable,  and  fastened  him  in.  Then  the  knob  of  the 
stick  gradually  ceased  to  glow,  and  Gretel  was  still 
standing  there. 

"Now  while  I  feed  Hansel  up  till  he  is  plump  as  a 
partridge,  you  stand  where  you  are,"  said  the  witch,  and 
into  the  house  she  went.  Gretel  stood  horrified,  and 
Hansel  whispered  to  her: 

"Don't  speak  loud,  and  be  very  watchful,  Gretelkin. 
Pretend  to  do  everything  the  witch  commands,  yet  be 
very  watchful.  There  she  comes  again";  and  so  she  did, 
with  a  basket  full  of  raisins  and  other  things  for  him  to 
eat.  She  stuck  good  things  into  his  mouth,  as  if  she 
were  fattening  a  Strasburg  goose,  and  after  that  she 
disenchanted  Gretel  with  a  juniper  branch. 

"Now,  then,  you  go  and  set  the  table,"  she  ordered, 
then  turning  again  to  Hansel  she  found  him  apparently 
asleep. 

"That's  good!  It  is  a  way  to  grow  fat,"  she  grinned. 
"I'll  just  begin  my  supper  with  Gretel.  She  looks  quite 
plump  enough  as  she  is.  Here,  my  love,"  she  cried,  open- 
ing the  oven  door,  and  sniffing  some    gingerbread    fig- 


Hansel  and  Gretel  149 

ures  within,  "just  look  into  the  oven  and  tell  me  if  it  is 
hot  enough  to  bake  in,"  she  called. 

Oh,  when  from  the  oven  I  take  her, 
She'll  look  like  a  cake  from  the  baker, 

the  old  wretch  giggled  to  herself.  But  Gretel  pretended 
not  to  hear  her;  and  after  all,  she  thought  the  oven  not 
quite  hot  enough  to  push  Gretel  into,  so  she  began  jab- 
bering about  the  witch's  ride  she  was  going  to  have 
that  night  at  twelve,  on  her  broomstick.  As  she  thought 
about  it  she  became  very  enthusiastic,  and  getting  upon 
her  broom  she  went  galloping  about  the  house  and  back. 
When  she  got  through  performing  in  this  outrageous  man- 
ner —  which  fairly  froze  Gretel's  blood  in  her  veins  —  the 
old  witch  tickled  Hansel  with  a  birch-twig  till  he 
woke. 

"Here,  my  little  darling,  show  me  your  tongue,"  she 
said,  and  Hansel  stuck  out  his  tongue  as  if  the  doctor 
had  been  called  to  investigate  his  liver.  "My,  but  you 
are  in  fine  condition,"  the  old  wretch  mumbled  smacking 
her  lips.  "Let  me  see  your  thumb,"  she  demanded,  and 
instead  of  sticking  out  his  plump  thumb.  Hansel  poked 
a  tiny  bone  through  the  bars  of  the  cage.  "Oh!  how 
lean  and  scraggy!  You  won't  do  yet";  and  she  called 
to  Gretel  to  bring  more  food  for  him,  and  there  she 
stopped  to  stuff  him  again.  Then  she  again  opened  the 
oven  door,  looking  all  the  while  at  Gretel. 

"How  she  makes  my  mouth  water,"  she  muttered. 
"Come  here,  little  Gretelkin,  poke  your  head  into  the 
oven  and  tell  me  if  you  think  it  hot  enough  for  us  to  bake 
in."     At  this  awful  moment  Hansel  whispered: 

" Oh,  be  careful,  Gretel ! "  Gretel  nodded  at  him  behind 
the  witch's  back. 


150  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Just  smell  that  lovely  gingerbread.  Do  poke  your 
head  in  to  see  if  it  is  quite  done.  Then  you  shall 
have  a  piece  hot  from  the  oven."  Gretel  still  hung 
back. 

"I  don't  quite  know  how  to  do  it,"  she  apologized. 
"If  you  will  just  show  me  how  to  reach  up,"  she  mur- 
mured; and  the  old  witch,  quite  disgusted  that  Gretel 
should  take  so  long  to  do  as  she  was  bid,  and  so  delay  the 
feast,  said: 

"Why,  this  way,  you  goose,"  poking  her  head  into  the 
oven,  and  instantly.  Hansel,  who  had  slipped  out  of  the 
stable,  sprang  upon  the  old  woman,  gave  her  the  push 
she  had  intended  to  give  Gretel,  and  into  the  oven  she 
popped,  and  bang  went  the  oven  door,  while  the  children 
stood  looking  at  each  other  and  shivering  with  fright. 

"Oh,  my  suz!     Do  you  suppose  we  have  her  fast?" 

"I  guess  we  have,"  Hansel  cried,  grabbing  Gretel  about 
the  waist  and  dancing  wildly  in  glee.  Then  they  rushed 
into  the  house  and  began  to  fill  their  pockets  with  good 
things.  While  they  were  at  this,  the  oven  began  to  crack 
dreadfully.     The  noise  was  quite  awful. 

"Oh,  mercy!  What  is  happening?"  Gretel  cried.  And 
at  that  moment  the  awful  oven  fell  apart,  and  out  jumped 
a  lot  of  little  children  with  the  gingerbread  all  falling 
off  them,  while  they  sprang  about  Hansel  and  Gretel  in 
great  joy.     But  all  their  eyes  were  shut. 

They  laughed  and  sang  and  hopped,  crying  that  Han- 
sel and  Gretel  had  saved  them  because  by  baking  the  old 
witch  they  had  broken  the  oven's  charm. 

"But  why  don't  you  open  your  eyes,"  Gretel  asked. 

"We  shall  not  be  entirely  disenchanted  till  you  touch 
us,"  they  told  her,  and  then  upon  being  touched  by 
Gretel  they  opened   their  eyes  like  ten-day-old  kittens. 


Hansel  and  Gretel  151 

Then  Hansel  took  a  juniper  branch  and  repeated  what 
he  had  heard  the  witch  say: 

Hocus  pocus  elder  bush, 
Rigid  body  loosen,  hush! 

and  there  came  that  gingerbread  hedge,  walking  on  legs, 
—  the  beautiful  gingerbread  falling  all  over  the  place, 
and  the  whole  fence  turning  back  into  little  children. 

At  that  very  moment  came  the  broom-maker  and  his 
wife,  who  had  sought  for  the  children  till  they  had  become 
nearly  distracted.  When  the  children  saw  them  they 
ran  into  their  mother's  arms. .  All  the  gingerbread 
children  were  singing  at  the  top  of  their  voices  and  were 
carrying  on  in  the  most  joyous  way. 

Two  boys  had  run  to  the  broken  oven,  and  had  begun 
to  drag  out  an  immense  gingerbread  —  it  was  the  old 
witch,  turned  into  the  finest  cake  ever  seen.  It  was  well 
that  she  turned  out  to  be  good  in  the  end,  if  only  good 
gingerbread.  They  dragged  her  out  where  everybody 
could  see  her,  and  broke  a  piece  of  her  off;  and  then  they 
shoved  her  into  the  cottage. 

"Now,  you  see  how  good  children  are  taken  care  of," 
the  broom-maker  sang;  while  everybody  danced  about 
the  disenchanted  llsenstein,  before  they  went  into  the 
house  for  supper. 


MASCAGNI 

THIS  composer  is  too  contemporary  to  be  discussed 
freely.  He  has  done  no  great  amount  of  work, 
and  fame  came  to  him  in  his  youth.  "  Cavalleria  Rusti- 
cana"  is  his  supreme  performance,  and  there  is  in  it  a 
promise  of  greater  things. 

CAVALLERIA  RUSTICANA* 
(Rustic  Chivalry) 


Santuzza. 

Lola. 

Turiddu. 

Alfio. 

Lucia. 


CHARACTERS  OF  THE   OPERA 


Peasants. 


The  story  is  of  peasant  people  in  a  small  Sicilian  village,  on  an  Easter 
day. 

Composer:  Pietro  Mascagni. 

Authors:  Giovanni  Targioni-Fozzetti  and  Guido  Menascl. 

First  sung  at  Rome,  May  20,  1890. 
ACT  I 

One  fine  Easter  morning,  in  a  small  Italian  village ,  a 
fop,  named  Turiddu,  came  along  the  little  street  singing 
of  Lola,  an  old  sweetheart,  who,  since  Turiddu  went  to 
serve  his  required  term  in  the  army,  had  married  a  wag- 

*The  quotations  from  "  Cavalleria  Rusticana  "  are  from  the  English  .version  by 
Nathan  Haskell  Dole,  Copyright,  1891,  by  G.  Schirmer. 


Cavalleria  Rustkana  153 

oner.  Turiddu  was  far  from  heartbroken,  because  when 
he  returned  and  first  heard  of  Lola's  faithlessness,  he 
straightway  fell  in  love  with  a  worthier  girl — Santuzza, 
Neither  Lola  nor  Turiddu  was  a  faithful  sort,  but  lived 
for  a  good  time  to-day,  leaving  luck  to  look  after  to-mor- 
row; but  it  was  not  the  same  with  Santuzza.  She  truly 
loved  Turiddu,  and  being  an  Italian  peasant,  very  emo- 
tional and  excitable,  it  was  going  to  be  dangerous  for 
Turiddu  to  ill-treat  her. 

If  that  Easter  morning  found  Turiddu  quite  gay  and 
free,  it  found  Santuzza  full  of  despair  and  misgiving, 
because  she  knew  that  her  lover  had  returned  to  his  for- 
mer sweetheart.  Lola's  husband,  the  wagoner,  was  fre- 
quently away  from  his  home,  and  in  his  absence  his 
wife  had  been  fhrting.  In  a  little  village,  where  every- 
body knew  everybody  else,  and  all  of  each  other's  busi- 
ness, Santuzza's  companions  had  learned  that  Turiddu 
had  thrown  his  new  love  over  for  the  old,  and  instead  of 
pitying  her,  they  had  ridiculed  and  treated  her  unkindly. 

On  a  Sunday  morning,  just  before  the  villagers  start- 
ed to  church,  Santuzza  started  for  Turiddu's  home.  He 
hved  near  the  church,  with  Lucia,  his  old  mother.  San- 
tuzza had  been  thinking  all  night  of  what  she  could  do 
to  win  her  lover  back ;  and  at  daylight  had  risen  with  the 
determination  to  go  to  old  Lucia,  and  tell  her  how  her 
son  had  misbehaved.  In  Italy,  even  grown  sons  and 
daughters  obey  their  parents  more  promptly  than  the 
small  children  in  America  ever  do.  Santuzza,  all  tears 
and  worn  with  sleeplessness,  thought  possibly  Lucia 
could  prevail  upon  Turiddu  to  keep  his  word  and  behave 
more  like  an  honest  man.  All  the  little  village  was 
astir  early,  because  Easter  is  a  fete  day  in  Italy,  and  the 
people  make  merry,  as  well  as  go  to  church.     The  peas- 


154  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

ants  were  passing  and  repassing  through  the  Uttle  square 
as  Santuzza  entered  it.  She  looked  very  sad  and  her 
eyes  were  swollen  with  crying.  But  no  one  paid  any 
attention  to  her  as  all  were  going  into  the  church  for 
early  mass.  After  the  crowd  had  gone  in,  the  sound  of 
the  organ  and  of  the  congregation's  voices  could  be 
heard  in  the  square.  They  sang  an  Easter  carol  —  about 
flowers  and  carolling  larks  and  orange  blossoms  —  which 
did  not  make  Santuzza  any  the  happier;  but  she  went  to 
the  door  of  old  Lucia's  house  and  called  softly: 

"Mama  Lucia  —  Mama  Lucia  —  art  thou  there?" 

"Thou,  Santuzza?  What  wilt  thou,  my  dear?"  the 
old  woman  answered,  hobbling  out. 

"Mama  Lucia,  where  is  thy  son?"  Santuzza  demanded. 

"Thou  hast  come  to  see  Turiddu?  I  do  not  know, 
my  girl.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  quarrels,  you  must 
understand,"  she  answered  cautiously,  half  suspecting 
Santuzza's  trouble,  because  she  had  already  suffered 
many  times  on  account  of  her  son's  faithlessness  to  others. 

"Mama  Lucia,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  turn  me  away.  Lis- 
ten to  my  troubles.  It  is  thy  son  who  has  caused  them, 
and  I  must  see  him,"  Santuzza  sobbed. 

"Well,  I  cannot  help  thee  —  though  I  am  truly  sorry 
for  thee,"  the  mother  answered,  after  a  moment,  observ- 
ing all  the  signs  of  the  sorrow  that  Santuzza  felt.  "He 
is  not  at  home.  He  has  gone  to  fetch  the  wine  from 
Francofonte. " 

"No,  no  —  he  hasn't.  He  was  seen  about  the  village 
only  last  night." 

"Who  told  thee  that?  I,  his  mother,  should  know 
if  he  is  at  home  or  not." 

"  Mama  Lucia,  do  not  turn  me  away  —  I  am  in  great 
sorrow,  and  you  will  be  unhappy  all  your  life  if  you  ill- 


Cavalleria  Rusticana 


155 


treat  me  now."  At  this  they  were  disturbed  by  the 
cracking  of  whips  and  jingling  of  bells  which  told  of  the 
return  to  town  of  the  wagoner.  Alfio  was  returning  on 
Easter  morning  in  time  to  join  the  gaiety  with  his  wife, 
Lola. 

He  came  in  jauntily,  singing: 


^s= 


^ 


^3^ 


± 


-V ^ '- 

Proud— ly  steps  the  stur — dy    steed,     Gay — ly  ring    the 


1 


:£ 


-^ 


-&» 5- 


Wr3- 


-V- 


mer — ry       bells,     Crack!  goes    the    whip — lash  I    O' 


lif: 


m^ 


tt—^ — r? 


-^=»-^ 


fpi 


hi! 


The'      the 

-0-      -^ 


i—cy 


S^ 


-^s 


^ 


wind    may  blow,    Let      it      rain      or      let      it    snow, 


" — Bf-Vr. 


S 


i^: 


-*   1  y 


What  in     the    world  care     I? 


Soon  all  the  neighbours  appeared  to  welcome  him.  He 
was  a  most  popular  fellow  —  unlike  Turiddu,  who  was  a 
favourite  mainly  with  the  girls. 

"Well,  about  all  I  have  wished  for  all  the  week,  neigh- 
bours, was  to  get  home  here  to  my  wife,  that  we  might 
spend  this  Easter  day  together.  When  I  am  away,  I 
think  of  nothing  but  her,  you  may  be  sure!     I  can't  stop 


156 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


here  with  you,  jolly  as  you  are.  Lola  is  certain  to  be 
waiting  for  me,  so  ofif  I  go!"  and  the  wagoner  waved  his 
hand  gaily  and  was  about  to  hurry  ofif,  while  some  went 
back  into  the  church  again,  and  some  went  to  their  homes. 
But  Mama  Lucia  could  not  but  regard  him  anxiously. 
She,  herself,  was  in  trouble  over  her  wild  son. 

"Ah,  Alfio,  you  are  always  in  such  high  spirits " 

"Hello,  Mama  Lucia!  Good  day  to  you  —  have  you 
any  more  of  that  famous  wine?"  Lucia's  house  was  also 
the  village  inn,  where  the  folks  congregated  to  drink  their 
wine,  to  play  cards,  and  have  a  good  gossip. 

"No,  not  now;  Turiddu  has  gone  to  Francofonte  to 
get  it." 

"You  are  wrong:  I  met  him  near  my  cottage  as  I 
came  into  the  village  this  very  morning,"  the  wagoner 
answered,  and  at  the  same  moment  Santuzza  pulled  old 
Lucia's  skirt,  signing  to  her  to  be  silent.  But  the  old 
woman,  surprised  and  confused  at  the  turn  things  seemed 
to  be  taking,  persisted: 

"How  so?     Are  you  certain  of  that? " 

"Oh,  yes,  perfectly  sure.  And  now  I  must  be  going: 
Lola  will  be  expecting  me,"  the  unsuspicious  wagoner 
answered,  turning  in  earnest  to  go  home.  Now,  while 
old  Lucia  and  Santuzza  stood  without,  the  choir  in  the 
church  sang: 


n  " 

- 

, 

V  *f 

^_ 

^ 

9 

»     '\ 

/    i  * 

1^  •       ^ 

\        \          \        \ 

v\  y  1 

^ 

I 

• 

^ 

_  _  .  1 

1             I 

'          1         1 

Queen  of 

the 

Heav 

-ens,        grief 

is' 

Wtt 



-<% 

-^ 

a 

f^   ■ 

tS> 

XX) 

«J 

^^ 

^ 

>^ 

- 

end- 


-ed! 


He, 


whom 


Cavalleria  Rusticana  157 


I.  J  r  -  Y  \E$^m 


m 


-thy  love once      de fend — ed- 


And  those  peasants  who  had  gradually  wandered  back 
into  the  square  knelt,  as  they  heard  the  prayer.  The 
scene  was  very  devotional  and  beautiful,  with  the  exquisite 
music  floating  out  from  the  church,  and  the  reverent 
people  gathering  about  it.  Presently  they  broke  into  a 
joyous  chorus  of  "Hallelujah!  Christ  is  risen!"  while 
Santuzza  and  old  Lucia  joined  in  spite  of  their  sadness. 
But  after  all  had  wandered  away,  old  Lucia  approached 
Santuzza: 

"Why  didst  thou  caution  me  not  to  speak  when  Alfio 
said  he  had  seen  my  son  near  his  house?"  she  asked, 
anxiously,  already  half  guessing  the  reason. 

"Good  mama,  do  you  not  know  that  before  Turiddu 
went  to  the  war  he  was  Lola's  lover;  and  at  first  after 
he  returned  he  cared  for  me,  but  now  he  has  forgotten  me 
and  is  again  making  love  to  Lola?  If  the  wagoner  knew 
of  this,  what  do  you  think  he  would  do?" 

"Oh,  what  hast  thou  told  me  upon  this  holy  morning! 
You  are  right  —  if  Alfio  knew  of  this  he  would  kill  them 
both  maybe.     He  surely  would  kill  my  son." 

"It  seems  to  me  all  are  cursed  this  beautiful  day.  Go 
and  pray  for  us  all.  Mama  Lucia,  and  so  will  I,"  Santuzza 
replied.  And  she  was  about  to  enter  the  church  to  say  her 
prayers  when  there  came  Turiddu,  himself,  dressed  in  his 
best,  ready  to  meet  Lola  in  the  square  as  she  passed  on 
her  way  to  the  church. 

"Turiddu!"  Santuzza  called. 

"Devils!  What  are  you  here  for,  Santuzza?  Are  you 
on  your  way  to  church?" 


158  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Not  now.     I  am  here  to  speak  with  you  — 


"  Well,  well,  I  cannot  stop  for  it ;  I  must  go  into  the 
inn  and  see  my  mother  just  now." 

"You  must  stay  here  and  speak  with  me.  I  warn  you 
to  do  it,  Turiddu.  I  am  very  unhappy,  and  if  you  will 
give  up  Lola  I  will  forget  all  your  wrongdoing.  But  if 
you  neglect  me,  and  will  not  give  up  Alfio's  wife,  Alfio 
will  surely  learn  of  it  and  make  you  trouble." 

"Oh,  come  now  —  do  you  think  you  can  frighten  me? 
I  will  be  a  slave  to  no  woman's  whim,  Santuzza.  Go 
about  your  business.  I  shall  attend  to  mine  without 
your  help.  No,  I  will  listen  to  you  no  longer,"  he  cried, 
becoming  angrier  as  she  spoke,  and  pushing  her  away 
from  him,  as  Lola,  in  the  street  near  the  square  could  be 
heard  singing. 

Santuzza  and  Turiddu  both  paused  and  listened.  She 
was  singing  of  Turiddu.  She  was  calling  him  her  "  King 
of  Roses."  And  then,  while  the  two  were  standing  uncer- 
tain what  to  do,  Lola  entered  the  square  and  spied  them. 

"  Hello,"  she  called  loftily,  looking  at  Santuzza.  "Have 
you  seen  Alfio,  Turiddu?  " 

"No,  I  have  only  just  now  come  into  the  square." 

"Oh,  perhaps  you  have  come  to  church,"  she  persisted 
impertinently. 

"I  —  I  stopped  to  tell  Santuzza — "  he  hardly  knew 
what  to  say. 

"I  stopped  to  see  Turiddu,"  Santuzza  interrupted 
earnestly.  "I  stopped  to  say  that  the  good  Lord  beholds 
all  our  deeds." 

"Ah  —  then  you  are  not  going  to  mass?" 

"No  —  those  who  go  to  mass  must  have  a  clear  con- 
science.    Which  of  us  here  has  that?" 

"Really  I  know  nothing  about  you,"  Lola  answered; 


Cavalleria  Rusticana  159 

*'as  for  mine  —  it  is  clear!"  Turiddu  foreseeing  trouble 
between  them  interrupted  hastily. 

"Let  us  go  in,"  speaking  to  Lola. 

"Oh,  stay  with  Santuzza  —  and  her  conscience!    do!" 

"  Yes,  Turiddu  —  I  warn  you! "  At  that  Lola  laughed 
and  went  into  the  church. 

"Now  what  have  you  done?  By  your  folly,  angered 
Lola.  I  am  done  with  you!"  Turiddu  exclaimed, 
throwing  off  Santuzza,  who  held  him  back  while  she 
spoke.  He  became  so  enraged  that  he  treated  her  bru- 
tally; and  in  trying  to  rid  himself  of  her  he  threw  her  down 
upon  the  stones,  and  then  ran  into  the  church.  When 
she  got  upon  her  feet  again  she  was  furious  with  anger. 

"Now.Iwill  punish  him  for  all  his  faitlilessnesss,"  she 
sobbed,  and  she  no  sooner  took  this  resolve  than  fate 
seemed  to  give  her  the  means  of  carrying  it  out,  for  at 
that  moment  Alfio  came  back  into  the  square. 

"Oh,  neighbour  Alfio!  God  himself  must  have  sent 
you  here!" 

"At  what  point  is  the  service?" 

"It  is  almost  over,  but  I  must  tell  you  —  Lola  is  gone 
to  it  with  Turiddu. ' ' 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Alfio  demanded,  re- 
garding her  in  wonder. 

"I  mean  that  while  you  are  about  your  business  Tu- 
riddu remains  here,  and  your  wife  finds  in  him  a  way  to 
pass  the  time.     She  does  not  love  you." 

"If  you  are  not  telUng  me  the  truth,"  Alfio  said,  with 
anguish,  "I'll  certainly  kill  you." 

"You  have  only  to  watch  —  you  will  know  the  truth 
fast  enough,"  she  persisted. 

Alfio  stood  a  moment  in  indecision  and  looked  at  her 
steadfastly. 


i6o  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Santuzza,  I  believe  you.  Your  words  —  and  the  sad- 
ness of  your  face  —  convince  me.  I  will  avenge  us  both." 
And  off  he  ran.  For  a  moment  Santuzza  was  glad,  then 
remorse  overtook  her.  Now  Turiddu  would  be  killed! 
She  was  certain  of  it.  Alfio  was  not  a  man  to  be  played 
with.  Surely  Turiddu  would  be  killed!  And  there  was 
his  old  mother,  too,  who  would  be  left  quite  alone.  When 
it  was  too  late,  Santuzza  repented  having  spoken.  She 
tried  to  recall  Alfio,  but  he  had  gone. 

The  organ  within  the  church  swelled  loudly  again,  and, 
the  music  being  most  beautiful,  Santuzza  stood  listening 
in  an  agony  of  mind.  Soon  people  began  to  come  out, 
and  old  Lucia  hobbled  from  the  church  in  her  turn,  and 
crossed  to  her  inn,  followed  by  the  young  men  and  women. 
The  men  were  all  going  home  to  their  wives,  and  the  wo- 
men to  their  duties,  but  it  was  proposed  that  all  should 
stop  a  moment  at  old  Lucia's  for  a  glass  of  her  famous 
wine  before  they  separated.  As  they  went  to  the  bar 
of  the  inn,  which  was  out  under  the  trees,  Lola  and 
Turiddu  came  from  the  church  together. 

"I  must  hurry  home  now  —  I  haven't  seen  Alfio  yet  — 
and  he  will  be  in  a  rage,"  she  said. 

"Not  so  fast  —  there  is  plenty  of  time!  Come,  neigh- 
bours, have  a  glass  of  wine  with  us,"  Turiddu  cried  to  the 
crowd,  going  to  his  mother's  bar,  and  there  they  gathered 
singing  a  gay  drinking  song. 

"To  those  who  love  you!"  Turiddu  pledged,  lifting 
his  glass  and  looking  at  Lola. "    She  nodded  and  answered : 

" To  your  good  fortune,  brother!"  And  while  they  were 
speaking  Alfio  entered. 

"  Greeting  to  you  all,"  he  called. 

"Good!  come  and  join  us,"  Turiddu  answered. 

"Thank  you!  but  I  should  expect  you  to  poison  me 


Cavalleria  Rusticana  i6i 

if  I  were  to  drink  with  you,  my  friend,"  and  the  wagoner 
looked  meaningly  at  Turiddu. 

"Oh  —  well,  suit  yourself,"  Turiddu  replied,  noncha- 
lantly.    Then  a  neighbour  standing  near  Lola  whispered: 

"You  had  better  leave  here,  Lola.  Come  home  with 
me.  I  can  foresee  trouble  here."  Lola  took  her  advice 
and  went  out,  with  all  the  women  following  her. 

"Well,  now  that  you  have  frightened  away  all  the 
women  by  your  behaviour,  maybe  you  have  something 
to  say  to  me  privately,"  Turiddu  remarked,  turning  to 
Alfio. 

"Nothing  —  except  that  I  am  going  to  kill  you  — 
this  instant!" 

"You  think  so?  then  we  will  embrace,"  Turiddu  ex- 
claimed, proposing  the  custom  of  the  place  and  throw- 
ing his  arms  about  his  enem.y.  When  he  did  so,  Alfio  bit 
Turiddu's  ear,  which,  in  Sicily,  is  a  challenge  to  a  duel. 

"Good!     I  guess  we  understand  each  other." 

"Well,  I  own  that  I  have  done  you  wrong  —  and  San- 
tuzza  wrong.  Altogether,  I  am  a  bad  fellow;  but  if  you 
are  going  to  kill  me,  I  must  bid  my  mother  good-bye,  and 
also  give  Santuzza  into  her  care.  After  all,  I  have  some 
grace  left,  whether  you  think  so  or  not,"  Turiddu  cried, 
and  then  he  called  his  mother  out,  while  Alfio  went  away 
with  the  understanding  that  Turiddu  should  immedi- 
ately follow  and  get  the  fight  over. 

"Mama,"  Turiddu  then  said  to  old  Lucia  when  she 
hobbled  out,  "that  wine  of  ours  is  certainly  very  ex- 
citing. I  am  going  out  to  walk  it  off,  and  I  want  your 
blessing  before  I  go."  He  tried  to  keep  up  a  cheerful 
front  that  he  might  not  frighten  his  old  mother.  At 
least  he  had  the  grace  to  behave  himself  fairly  well,  now 
that  the  end  had  come. 


i62               operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 
"If  I  shouldn't  come  back " 


"What  can  you  mean,  my  son?"  the  old  woman  whis- 
pered, trembling  with  fear. 

"Nothing,  nothing,  except  that  even  before  I  go  to 
walk,  I  want  your  promise  to  take  Santuzza  to  live  with 
you.  Now  that  is  all!  I'm  oflf.  Good-bye,  God  bless 
you,  mother.  I  love  you  very  much."  Before  she  hardly 
knew  what  had  happened,  Turiddu  was  off  and  away. 
She  ran  to  the  side  of  the  square  and  called  after  him, 
but  he  did  not  return.     Instead,  Santuzza  ran  in. 

"Oh,  Mama  Lucia,"  she  cried,  throwing  her  arms  about 
her. 

Then  the  people  who  had  met  Alfio  and  Turiddu  on 
their  way  to  their  encounter  began  to  rush  in.  Every- 
body was  wildly  excited.  Both  men  were  village  favour- 
ites in  their  way.  A  great  noise  of  rioting  was  heard  and 
some  one  shrieked  in  the  distance. 

"Oh,  neighbour,  neighbour,  Turiddu  is  killed,  Turiddu 
is  killed!"  At  this  nearly  every  one  in  the  little  village 
came  running,  while  Santuzza  fell  upon  the  ground  in  a 
faint. 

"He  is  killed!  Alfio  has  killed  him!"  others  cried,  run- 
ning in,  and  then  poor  old  Lucia  fell  unconscious  beside 
Santuzza,  while  the  neighbours  gathered  about  her,  lifted 
her  up  and  carried  her  into  her  lonely  inn. 


MEYERBEER 

GENIUS  seems  born  to  do  stupid  things  and  to  be 
unable  to  know  it.  Probably  no  stupider  thing 
was  ever  said  or  done  than  that  by  Wagner  when  he  wrote 
a  diatribe  on  the  Jew  in  Art.  He  called  it  "Das  Juden- 
tham  in  der  Musik"  (Judaism  in  Music).  He  declared 
that  the  mightiest  people  in  art  and  in  several  other  things 
—  the  Jews  —  could  not  be  artists  for  the  reason  that 
they  were  wanderers  and  therefore  lacking  in  national 
characteristics. 

There  could  not  well  have  been  a  better  plea  against 
his  own  statement.  Art  is  often  national  —  but  not 
when  art  is  at  its  best.  Art  is  an  emotional  result  — 
and  emotion  is  a  thing  the  Jews  know  something  about. 
Meyerbeer  was  a  Jew,  and  the  most  helpful  friend  Rich- 
ard Wagner  ever  had,  yet  Wagner  was  so  little  of  a  Jew 
that  he  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  appreciation  and 
gratitude.  Instead,  he  hated  Meyerbeer  and  his  music 
intensely.  Meyerbeer  may  have  been  a  wanderer  upon 
the  face  of  the  earth  and  without  national  characteris- 
tics —  which  is  a  truly  amusing  thing  to  say  of  a  Jew, 
since  his  "characteristics"  are  a  good  deal  stronger 
than  ''national":  they  are  racial!  But  however 
that  may  have  been,  Meyerbeer's  music  was  certainly 
characteristic  of  its  composer.  As  between  Jew  and  Jew, 
Mendelssohn  and  he  had  a  petty  hatred  of  each  other. 
Mendelssohn  was  always  displeased  when  the  extraor- 
dinary likeness  between    himself    and   Meyerbeer   was 

163 


164  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

commented  upon.  They  were  so  much  alike  in  physique 
that  one  night,  after  Mendelssohn  had  been  tormented 
by  his  attention  being  repeatedly  called  to  the  fact,  he 
cut  his  hair  short  in  order  to  make  as  great  a  difference 
as  possible  between  his  appearance  and  that  of  his  rival. 
This  only  served  to  create  more  amusement  among  his 
friends. 

Rossini,  with  all  the  mean  vanity  of  a  small  artist,  one 
whose  principal  claim  to  fame  lay  in  large  dreams,  de- 
clared that  Meyerbeer  was  a  "mere  compiler."  If  that 
be  true,  one  must  say  that  a  good  compilation  is  better 
than  a  poor  creation.  Rossini  and  Meyerbeer  were, 
nevertheless,  warm  friends. 

Meyerbeer  put  into  practice  the  Wagnerian  theories, 
which  may  have  been  one  reason,  aside  from  the  consti- 
tutional artistic  reasons,  why  Wagner  hated  him. 

Meyerbeer  was  born  "to  the  purple,"  to  a  properly 
conducted  life,  and  yet  he  laboured  with  tremendous  vim. 
He  outworked  all  his  fellows,  and  one  day  when  a  friend 
protested,  begging  him  to  take  rest,  Meyerbeer  answered: 

"If  I  should  stop  work  I  should  rob  myself  of  my 
greatest  enjoyment.  I  am  so  accustomed  to  it  that  it 
has  become  a  necessity  with  me. ' '  This  is  the  true  art 
spirit,  which  many  who  "arrive"  never  know  the  joy  of 
possessing.  Meyerbeer's  father  was  a  rich  Jewish  banker, 
Jacob  Beer,  of  Berlin.  It  is  pleasant  to  think  of  one  man, 
capable  of  large  achievements,  having  an  easy  time  of 
it,  finding  himself  free  all  his  life  to  follow  his  best 
creative  instincts.     It  is  not  often  so. 

Meyerbeer's  generosity  of  spirit  in  regard  to  the  great- 
ness of  another  is  shown  in  this  anecdote: 

Above  all  music,  the  Jew  best  loved  Mozart's,  just 
as  Mozart  loved  Haydn's.     Upon  one  occasion  when 


The  Prophet  165 

Meyerbeer  was  dining  with  some  friends,  a  question 
arose  about  Mozart's  place  among  composers.  Some 
one  remarked  that  "certain  beauties  of  Mozart's  music 
had  become  stale  with  age."  Another  agreed,  and  added, 
"I  defy  any  one  to  listen  to  'Don  Giovanni'  after  the 
fourth  act  of '  Les  Huguenots ' ! "  This  vulgar  compliment 
enraged  Meyerbeer.  "So  much  the  worse  then  for  the 
fourth  act  of  '  The  Huguenots ' ! "  he  shouted.  Of  all  his 
own  work  this  Jewish  composer  loved *'L'Africaine  "the 
best,  and  he  made  and  remade  it  during  a  period  of  seven- 
teen years.  In  this  he  was  the  best  judge  of  his 
own  work;  though  some  persons  believe  that  "  Le 
Prophete"  is  greater. 

Among  Meyerbeer's  eccentricities  was  one  that  can- 
not be  labelled  erratic.  He  had  a  wholesome  horror 
of  being  buried  alive,  and  he  carried  a  slip  about  in  his 
pocket,  instructing  whom  it  might  concern  to  see  that  his 
body  was  kept  unburied  four  days  after  his  death,  that 
small  bells  were  attached  to  his  hands  and  feet,  and  that 
all  the  while  he  should  be  watched.  Then  he  was  to  be 
sent  to  Berlin  to  be  interred  beside  his  mother,  whom  he 
dearly  loved. 

THE   PROPHET 

CHARACTERS   OF   THE   OPERA 

Count  Oberthal,  Lord  of  the  manor. 

John  of   Leyden,   an   inn-keeper   and   then   a   revolutionist    (the 

Prophet). 

Jonas  "1 

Mathison     >  Anabaptists. 

Zacharia      J 

Bertha,  affianced  to  John  of  Leyden. 

Faith,  John's  mother. 

Choir:     Peasants,  soldiers,  people,  officers. 

Story  laid  in  Holland,  near  Dordrecht,  about  the  fifteenth  century. 

Composer:  Meyerbeer. 
Author:  Scribe. 


i66  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

ACT  I 

One  beautiful  day  about  four  hundred  years  ago  the 
sun  rose  upon  a  castle  on  the  Meuse,  where  lived  the 
Count  OberthaJ,  known  in  Holland  as  Lord  of  the  Manor. 
It  was  a  fine  sight  with  its  drawbridge  and  its  towers,  its 
mills  and  outbuildings,  with  antique  tables  outside  the 
great  entrance,  sacks  of  grain  piled  high,  telling  of  indus- 
try and  plenty.  In  the  early  day  peasants  arrived  with 
their  grain  sacks,  called  for  entrance,  and  the  doors  were 
opened  to  them;  other  men  with  grain  to  be  milled  came 
and  went,  and  the  scene  presented  a  Hvely  appearance. 

Sheep-bells  were  heard  in  the  meadows,  the  breezes 
blew  softly,  and  men  and  women  went  singing  gaily  about 
their  work.  Among  them  was  a  young  girl,  more  beau- 
tiful than  the  others,  and  her  heart  was  specially  full  of 
hope.  She  was  beloved  of  an  innkeeper,  John,  who 
Hved  in  a  neighbouring  village.  He  was  prosperous  and 
good,  and  she  thought  of  him  while  she  worked.  She 
longed  to  be  his  wife,  but  John  had  an  old  mother  who 
was  mistress  of  the  inn  —  in  fact,  the  inn  was  hers  —  and 
it  had  been  a  question  how  they  should  arrange  their 
affairs.  John  was  too  poor  to  go  away  and  make  a  sepa- 
rate home,  and  the  old  mother  might  not  care  to  have  a 
daughter-in-law  take  her  place  as  mistress  there,  carry- 
ing on  the  business  while  the  active  old  woman  sat  idly  by. 

Upon  that  beautiful  day,  Bertha  was  thinking  of  all 
of  these  things,  and  hoping  something  would  happen  to 
change  the  situation.  Even  while  she  was  thinking  thus 
fate  had  a  pleasant  surprise  in  store  for  her,  because  the 
old  mother.  Faith,  was  at  that  very  moment  approaching 
the  manor  where  Bertha  lived.  Like  others  of  her  class 
she  owed  vassalage  to  some  petty  seigneur,  and  while 


The  Prophet  167 

that  meant  oppression  to  be  endured,  it  included 
the  advantage  of  safety  and  protection  in  time  of 
war. 

Bertha,  looking  off  over  the  country  road,  saw  Faith, 
John's  mother,  coming.  Her  step  was  firm  for  one  so 
aged,  and  she  v/as  upheld  on  her  long  journey  by  the 
goodness  of  her  mission.  When  Bertha  saw  her  she  ran 
to  meet  and  welcome  her. 

"Sit  down,"  she  cried,  guiding  the  old  woman's  steps 
to  a  seat,  and  hovering  over  her.  "I  have  watched  for 
your  coming  since  the  morning  —  even  since  sunrise," 
the  young  Vv'oman  said,  fluttering  about  happily.  "I 
was  certain  thou  wert  coming." 

"Yes,  yes.  John  said:  'Go,  go,  mother,  and  bring  Ber- 
tha home  to  me,'  and  I  have  come,"  she  answered, 
caressing  Bertha  kindly.  "I  have  decided  to  give  over 
the  work  and  the  care  to  you  young  people;  to  sit  by  the 
chimneyside  and  see  you  happy;  so  bid  farewell  to  this 
place,  and  prepare  to  return  with  me.  John  is  expecting 
thee." 

"At  once,  dear  mother?"  she  asked  with  some  anxiety. 
"You  know,  mother,  I  am  a  vassal  of  the  Seigneur  Ober- 
thal,  and  may  not  marry  outside  of  his  domain,  without 
his  permission.  I  must  first  get  that;  but  he  cannot 
wish  to  keep  me  here,  when  there  is  so  much  happiness 
in  store  for  me!"  she  cried,  with  all  the  assurance  of 
her  happiness  newly  upon  her.  But  while  she  had  been 
speaking,  Faith  had  looked  off  toward  the  high-road: 

"Look,  Bertha!  dost  see  three  strange  figures  coming 
along  there? "  she  asked  in  a  low  tone,  pointing  toward 
the  road.  Bertha  looked.  It  was  true:  three  men,  in 
black,  of  sinister  appearance,  were  coming  toward  them. 
The  pair  watched. 


i68  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Who  are  they?"  she  repeated,  still  in  low  and  half- 
frightened  tones. 

*' I  have  seen  them  before,"  Bertha  answered.  "It  is  said 
that  they  are  saintly  men,  but  they  look  sinister  tome." 

By  this  time  the  men  had  been  joined  by  many  of  the 
peasants  and  were  approaching  the  castle.  They  were 
Jonas,  Mathison,  and  Zacharia,  seditionists;  but  they 
were  going  through  the  country  in  the  garb  of  holy  men, 
stirring  up  the  people  under  cover  of  saintliness. 

They  preached  to  the  people  the  most  absurd  doctrines; 
that  they  would  have  all  the  lands  and  castles  of  the  no- 
bles if  they  should  rise  up  and  rebel  against  the  system  of 
vassalage  that  then  prevailed.  They  lacked  a  leader, 
however,  in  order  to  make  their  work  successful.  Now 
they  had  come  to  Dordrecht  and  were  approaching  the 
castle  of  the  Count  of  Oberthal.  All  the  peasants  got 
into  a  frightful  tangle  of  trouble  and  riot,  and  they  called 
and  hammered  at  the  Count's  doors  till  he  and  his 
retainers  came  out. 

"What  is  all  this  noise?"  he  demanded,  and  as  he 
spoke,  he  recognized  in  Jonas,  the  leader  of  the  Anabap- 
tists, a  servant  whom  he  had  discharged  for  thievery.  He 
at  once  told  the  peasants  of  this,  and  it  turned  them 
against  the  three  strangers  and  stopped  the  disturbance, 
but  at  the  back  of  the  crowd  the  Count  Oberthal  had 
seen  the  beautiful  Bertha  and  Faith. 

"What  do  ye  do  here?"  he  asked,  curiously  but  kindly, 
noticing  the  beauty  of  Bertha.  At  that  she  went 
toward  him. 

"I  wish  to  ask  you,  Seigneur,  for  leave  to  marry  out- 
side your  domain.  I  love  John  of  Leyden,  the  innkeep- 
er —  this  is  his  mother  —  and  she  has  come  to  take  me 
home  with  her,  if  I  may  go. "     She  spoke  modestly,  never 


The  Prophet 


169 


thinking  but  she  would  be  permitted  to  leave.  But  Ober- 
thal  looked  at  her  admiringly  and  decided  that  he  would 
have  her  for  himself.  Then  thinking  of  her  love,  she  be- 
gan to  sing  of  how  John  had  once  saved  her  life,  and 
Faith  joined  her  in  pleading. 


9-4 


Z&. 


-^ — ^5g- 

One    day 


it^ 


the 


waves  of    the 


tl 


3;_«- 


^^ 


^ 


Meuse 


Strug — gled      I        strug gled 


■^  P 


s 


i? 


John,        John        sav — ed 


*'No,"  Oberthal  said  at  last,  smiling;  "I  will  not  have 
so  much  loveliness  leave  my  domain.  No!  I  shall  not 
give  my  consent."  At  that  she  began  to  weep,  while 
Faith  protested  against  his  decision.  This  made  him 
angry  and  he  ordered  the  two  woman  taken  into  his  castle 
and  confined  there  till  he  should  decide  what  he  wished 
to  do  with  them. 

The  peasants,  who  were  still  gathered  about  the  Ana- 
baptists, uncertain  how  to  treat  them  after  the  Count's 
disclosures,  now  showed  great  anger  against  Oberthal 
for  his  action  toward  Bertha  and  Faith.  As  the  two  wo- 
men were  dragged  within  the  castle,  the  peasants  set  up 
a  howl  of  rage,  while  the  Anabaptists  extended  their 


I70  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

hands  above  them  in  a  pious  manner  and  began  their 
Latin  chant  once  more. 


ACT  n 

At  the  little  inn  belonging  to  Faith,  John  had  been 
waiting  all  day  for  her  return  with  Bertha,  and  trying  his 
best  to  look  after  those  who  came  and  went.  Outside, 
people  were  waltzing  and  drinking  and  making  merry, 
for  the  inn  was  a  favourite  place  for  the  townsmen  of 
Leyden  to  congregate. 

"Sing  and  waltz;  sing  and  waltz!"  they  cried,  "all  life 
is  joy  —  and  three  cheers  for  thee,  John!" 

"Hey!  John,  bring  beer,"  a  soldier  called  merrily. 
"Let  us  eat,  drink  and  —  "  At  that  moment  Jonas, 
followed  by  the  other  Anabapdsts,  appeared  at  the  inn. 

"John!  who  is  John?"  they  inquired  of  the  soldier. 

"John!  John !"  first  one,  then  another  called.  "Here 
are  some  gentlemen  who  want  beer  —  although  they  are 
very  unlikely  looking  chaps,"  some  one  added,  under  his 
breath,  looking  the  three  fellows  over.  John  came  in 
to  take  orders,  but  his  mind  was  elsewhere. 

"It  is  near  night  —  and  they  have  not  come,"  he  kept 
thinking.  "I  wonder  if  anytliing  can  have  happened 
to  them !  Surely  not !  My  mother  is  old,  but  she  is  live- 
ly on  her  feet,  and  on  her  way  home  she  would  have  the 
attention  of  Bertha.  Only  I  should  feel  better  to  see 
them  just  now." 

"Come,  come,  John!  Beer!"  the  soldier  interrupt- 
ed, and  John  started  from  his  reverie.  As  he  went  to 
fetch  the  beer,  Jonas  too  started.  Then  he  leaned  toward 
Mathison. 

"Do  you  notice  anything  extraordinary  about  that 


The  Prophet  171 

man  —  John  of  the  inn? "  he  asked.  The  two  other 
Anabaptists  regarded  the  innkeeper  closely. 

"Yes!  He  is  the  image  of  David  —  the  saint  in  Mun- 
ster,  whose  image  is  so  worshipped  by  the  Westphalians. 
They  believe  that  same  saint  has  worked  great  miracles 
among  them,"  Zacharia  answered,  all  the  while  watching 
John  as  he  moved  about  among  the  tables. 

"Listen  to  this!  Just  such  a  man  was  needed  to  com- 
plete our  success.  This  man's  strong,  handsome  appear- 
ance and  his  strange  likeness  to  that  blessed  image  of 
those  absurd  Westphalians  is  enough  to  make  him  a  suc- 
cessful leader.  We'll  get  hold  of  him,  call  him  a  prophet, 
and  the  business  is  done.  With  him  to  lead  and  we  to 
control  him,  we  are  likely  to  own  all  Holland  presently. 
He  is  a  wonder!"  And  they  put  their  heads  together 
and  continued  to  talk  among  themselves.  Then  Jonas 
turned  to  one  of  the  guests. 

"Say,  friend,  who  is  this  man?" 

"He  is  the  keeper  of  this  inn,"  was  the  answer.  "He 
has  an  excellent  heart  and  a  terrible  arm." 

"A  fiery  temper,  I  should  say,"  the  Anabaptist  sug- 
gested. 

"That  he  has,  truly." 

"He  is  brave?" 

"Aye  !  and  devoted.  And  he  knows  the  whole  Bi- 
ble by  heart,"  the  ])easant  declared,  proud  of  his  friend. 
At  that  the  three  looked  meaningly  at  one  another.  This 
certainly  was  the  sort  of  man  they  needed. 

"Come,  frienfls,  I  want  you  to  be  going,"  John  said  at 
that  moment,  his  anxiety  for  his  mother  and  Bertha  be- 
coming so  great  that  he  touM  no  longer  bear  the  presence 
(A  the  roistering  crowd.  "Besides  it  is  going  to  storm. 
Come.     I  must  close  up."     They  all  rose  good-naturedly 


172  Operas  Every  Child  Shojdd  Know  , 

and  one  by  one  and  in  groups  took  themselves  oflf  —  all 
but  the  three  Anabaptists,  who  lingered  behind. 

"What  troubles  thee,  friend?"  Jonas  said  sympatheti- 
cally to  John,  when  all  had  gone,  and  he  looked  toward 
them  inquiringly. 

"The  fact  is,  my  mother  was  to  have  returned  to  Ley- 
den  with  my  fiancee  before  this  hour,  and  I  am  a  little 
troubled  to  know  they  are  so  late  upon  the  road.  I 
imagine  I  feel  the  more  anxious  because  of  some  bad 
dreams  I  have  had  lately  —  two  nights."  He  added, 
trying  to  smile. 

"Pray  tell  us  what  your  dreams  were.  We  can  some 
of  us  interpret  dreams.  Come!  Perhaps  they  mean 
good  rather  than  bad,"  Jonas  urged. 

"Why,  I  dreamed  that  I  was  standing  in  a  beautiful 
temple,  with  everything  very  splendid  about  me,  while 
everybody  was  bowing  down  to  me " 

"Well,  that  is  good!"  Jonas  interrupted. 

"Ah!  but  wait!  A  crown  was  on  my  brow  and  a  hid- 
den choir  were  chanting  a  sacred  chant.  They  kept 
repeating :  '  This  is  the  new  king !  the  king  whom  heaven 
has  given  us.'  And  then  upon  a  blazing  marble  tablet 
there  appeared  the  words  'Woe  through  thee!  Woe 
through  thee ! '  And  as  I  was  about  to  draw  my  sword  I 
was  nearly  drowned  in  a  sea  of  blood.  To  escape  that 
I  tried  to  mount  the  throne  beside  me.  But  I  and  the 
throne  were  swept  away  by  a  frightful  storm  which  rose. 
And  at  that  moment  the  Devil  began  to  drag  me  down, 
while  the  people  cried:  ' Let  him  be  accursed ! '  But  out 
of  the  sky  came  a  voice  and  it  cried  *  Mercy  —  mercy 
to  him!'  and  then  I  woke  trembling  with  the  vivid- 
ness of  my  dream.  I  have  dreamed  thus  twice.  It 
troubles  me."     And  he   paused    abstractedly,  listening 


The  Prophet  173 

to  the  storm  without,  which  seemed  to  grow  more 
boisterous. 

"Friend,  let  me  interpret  that  dream  as  it  should  be 
understood.  It  means  that  you  are  born  to  reign  over 
the  people.  You  may  go  through  difficulties  to  reach  yoiu: 
throne,  but  you  shall  reign  over  the  people." 

"Humph! "  he  answered,  smiling  incredulously,  "I  may 
reign,  but  it  shall  be  a  reign  of  love  over  this  little  domes- 
tic world  of  mine.  I  want  my  mother  and  my  sweet- 
heart, and  want  no  more.  Let  them  arrive  safely  this 
night,  and  I'll  hand  over  that  dream-throne  to  you!"  he 
answered,  going  to  the  door. 

"Listen  again  I "  Jonas  persisted.  "  You  do  not  know 
us  but  you  have  heard  of  us.  We  are  those  holy  men 
who  have  been  travelling  through  Holland,  telling  people 
their  sacred  rights  as  human  beings;  and  pointing  out 
to  them  that  God  never  meant  them  for  slaves.  Join 
us,  and  that  throne  you  dreamed  of  shall  become  a 
real  one,  and  thine!  Come!  Consent,  and  you  go  with 
us.  That  kingdom  shall  be  yours.  You  have  the  head 
and  heart  and  the  behaviour  of  a  brave  and  good  man." 
Thus  they  urged  him,  but  John  only  put  them  aside.  He 
listened  to  them  half  in  derision. 

"Wait  till  I  get  my  Bertha  and  my  mother  safe  into 
this  house  this  night,  then  we'll  think  of  that  fine 
kingdom  ye  are  planning  for  me,"  he  said.  The  Anabap- 
tists seeing  that  his  mind  was  too  troubled  with  his  own 
affairs,  got  up  and  went  out. 

"Well,  thank  heaven ! "  John  cried  when  they  had  gone. 
"What  queer  fellows,  to  be  sure!  I  wish  it  were  not 
so  late "  At  that  moment  a  great  noise  arose  out- 
side the  inn.  "What  can  that  mean?  "  he  said  to  himself, 
standing  in  the   middle  of  the  floor,  hardly  daring  to 


174  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

look  out,  he  was  so  disturbed.  The  noise  became 
greater. 

"It  is  the  galloping  of  soldiers,  by  my  faith!"  he  cried, 
and  was  starting  toward  the  door  when  it  was  burst  open 
and  Bertha  threw  herself  into  his  arms, 

"What  is  this!  What  has  happened?  Good  heaven! 
you  are  all  torn  and " 

"Save  me,  save  and  hide  me!"  she  cried.  "Thy 
mother  is  coming.  The  soldiers  are  after  us  —  look!" 
And  glancing  toward  the  window  he  saw  Oberthal  coming 
near  with  his  soldiers.  He  hastily  hid  Bertha  behind 
some  curtains  in  one  part  of  the  room,  just  as  Oberthal 
rushed  in. 

He  demanded  Bertha,  telling  John  how  he  had  taken 
the  two  women  and  was  carrying  them  to  Haarlem  when 
Bertha  got  away.  Now  he  had  Faith,  the  mother,  and 
would  keep  her  as  hostage,  unless  Bertha  was  instantly 
given  into  his  hands.  Upon  hearing  that,  John  was  dis- 
tracted with  grief. 

"Give  her  up,  or  I'll  kill  this  old  woman  before  thy 
eyes!"  he  declared  brutally.  John  was  torn  between 
love  for  his  old  mother  and  for  his  sweetheart,  and  while 
he  stood  staring  wildly  at  Oberthal  the  soldiers  brought 
his  mother  in  and  were  about  to  cleave  her  head  in  twain 
when  Bertha  tore  the  curtains  apart.  She  could  not  let 
John  sacrifice  his  mother  for  her.  Oberthal  fairly  threw 
her  into  the  arms  of  his  soldiers,  while  the  old  mother 
stretched  her  arms  toward  John,  who  fell  upon  a  seat 
with  his  head  in  his  hands.  Then,  after  the  soldiers  and 
Oberthal  had  gone,  the  poor  old  woman  tried  to  comfort 
him,  but  his  grief  was  so  tragic  that  he  could  not  endure 
it,  and  he  begged  her  to  go  to  her  room  and  leave  him 
alone  for  a  time.     Soon  after  she  had  gone   out,   John 


The  Prophet  175 

heard  the  strange  chant  of  the  Anabaptists,  He  raised 
his  head  and  listened  —  that  was  like  his  dream  —  the 
sacred  chant ! 

"It  is  my  dream,"  he  said.  Then  he  started  up  furi- 
ously.    "  It  is  my  revenge.    If  those  strange  men  should 

come  again  and  ask "  And  at  that  very  moment  they 

summoned  him  to  the  door.  They  knew  what  had  passed, 
and  believed  it  a  good  time  to  persuade  him  to  join  them. 

"Enter,  enter,  enter!"  he  cried,  half  beside  himself 
with  his  grief;  and  the  three  strange  creatures  came  in. 

"John  of  Ley  den,  we  come  to  offer  you  a  throne  once 
more,  and  with  it  your  revenge  for  what  has  happened 
here  this  night." 

"I  will  join  thee  for  my  revenge.  I  need  no  throne  — 
but  my  revenge!     I  must  have  my  revenge!" 

"Come,  and  thou  shalt  have  it.  Work  henceforth  as 
we  direct,  and  as  that  sainted  figure  of  David,  beloved  by 
those  of  Westphalia,  and  we  promise  you  revenge  against 
the  whole  nobility  of  Holland.     Come!" 

"Aye  —  thou  shalt  be  to  Holland  what  Jeanne  d' Arc 
was  to  France!  " 

John  went  softly,  yet  quivering  with  hate  and  sorrow, 
to  his  mother's  door. 

"  She  mutters  a  prayer  in  her  sleep,"  he  said,  hesitat- 
ing what  to  do,  yet  overwhelmed  with  misfortune  and  fury. 

"Thy  revenge!"  whispered  Zacharia  in  his  ear.  John 
of  Leyden  looked  at  him  darkly  a  moment,  then: 

"Let  us  go,"  he  said,  and  the  four  conspirators  went 
softly  from  the  old  inn, 

ACT   III 

At  the  close  of  day,  at  the  foot  of  an  ice-covered  moun- 
tain, forests  on  every  side,  the  Anabaptists  were  encamped 


176  Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 

in  Westphalia.  John  of  Leyden  had  gone  to  that  part 
of  Germany  under  the  direction  of  Jonas,  Mathison,  and 
Zacharia,  and  being  introduced  to  the  people  as  a  sainted 
man,  all  had  fallen  down  and  worshipped  him  and  he 
had  become  a  great  power.  So  many  had  rallied  round 
him  that  his  army  had  become  very  large,  and  the  nobles 
and  their  families  were  fleeing  from  it  in  consternation. 

Just  before  nightfall,  while  all  seemed  quiet  in  camp,  a 
noise  of  battle  was  heard  far  off,  which  grew  louder  and 
louder,  telling  of  the  approach  of  the  fighters.  Finally, 
the  noise  of  combat  was  right  at  hand,  and  when  the  sol- 
diers rushed  into  the  camp  there  was  great  confusion. 
Among  the  prisoners  were  men  and  women  richly  dressed, 
little  children,  and  old  people,  all  prisoners,  or  flying  on 
every  side.  The  Anabaptists  were  ferocious  in  their  joy 
over  every  success,  and  since  John  of  Leyden  had 
joined  and  led  them  they  had  been  most  successful. 

Peasants  came  into  camp  with  baskets  and  loads  of 
food,  while  those  things  were  bought  by  giving  in  ex- 
change many  spoils  of  war  —  rich  vases  and  fine  stuffs  of 
all  sorts.  Then  the  soldiers  fell  to  eating  and  drinking, 
being  served  by  their  women  and  children  while  there 
was  dancing  and  general  rejoicing. 

Many  of  the  girls  who  had  brought  provisions  into 
camp  had  skated  over  miles  of  frozen  waterway,  think- 
ing little  of  such  a  performance  in  that  country,  and  all 
was  gaiety  and  expectation.  It  was  known  that  the 
Emperor  was  marching  against  the  Anabaptist  army, 
and  while  John  of  Leyden  had  been  very  successful,  he 
had  as  yet  no  stronghold;  so  he  decided,  after  talking 
with  Jonas  and  the  other  two  seditionists,  to  attack  the 
city  of  Miinster  itself.  That  city  was  held  by  the  father 
of  the  Count  Oberthal,  who  had  carried  off  Bertha. 


The  Prophet  177 

Then,  when  the  rout  and  camp  -gaiety  were  at  their 
height,  a  stranger  who  had  been  seen  wandering  about 
the  camp  was  brought  in.  He  was  looked  upon  with 
suspicion,  and  it  was  decided  that  he  must  immediately 
take  an  oath  to  belong  to  the  Anabaptists.  He  agreed 
to  do  so  and  then,  while  every  one  was  talking  about 
the  Prophet,  the  stranger  was  brought  before  Jonas. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  asked,  for  outside  the  rays  of  the 
camp  lights  the  wood  was  dark. 

"One  who  is  ready  to  take  the  oath  and  join  us,"  was 
the  answer. 

"Very  well,  but  in  this  dense  wood  who  can  see  any- 
thing at  this  time  of  the  night?     Strike  a  light  there." 

"Yes,  have  a  care,  brother, "  said  Zacharia.  "Let  us  be 
certain  the  man  is  sincere  in  his  purpose  to  join  us." 

"To-morrow  v/e  go  to  take  Miinster,  which  is  in  the 
hands  of  that  traitor  Oberthal,"  Mathison  said. 

The  stranger  started  violently. 

"We  shall  massacre  the  wretch  and  his  people,"  Jonas 
continued. 

"Massacre!"  the  stranger  exclaimed,  then  aside  he 
murmured  "my  father!"  because  in  truth  the  stranger 
who  had  been  caught  near  the  camp  was  none  other  than 
the  Oberthal  who  had  carried  away  Bertha. 

The  three  Anabaptists  continued  to  speak  in  so  blood- 
thirsty a  manner  of  their  exploits  that  Oberthal  was  hor- 
rified by  the  thought  that  it  was  his  father  who  was  to 
fall  into  their  hands  on  the  morrow.  More  than  that, 
they  expected  him  to  swear  to  join  their  expedition. 

"Well,  here  we  stand,  talking  in  the  darkness  still.  Let 
us  get  out  of  it,"  Jonas  cried,  and  they  moved  toward  the 
light  of  the  camp,  talcing  Oberthal  with  them.  Suddenly 
when    in    the    bright    light,   Jonas    recognized   his    old 


178  operas  Every  Child  ShotUd  Know 

master  who  had  sent  him  away  and  punished  him  for 
stealing. 

"  Heaven !  Well,  I  have  you  now ! "  he  cried,  wickedly. 
"Now  I'll  make  short  work  of  you!"  and  he  called  the 
guard.  "Here!  surround  him.  Lead  him  instantly  to 
execution." 

"Without  consulting  the  Prophet?"  all  cried  in 
amazement.     That  was  high-handed  work,  indeed. 

"Wait  for  nothing.  Kill  him,"  Jonas  cried,  going 
excitedly  by  one  path,  as  John  the  Prophet  came  upon 
the  scene  by  another.  He  was  sad  and  cast  down,  and 
Zacharia  spoke  to  him.     "What  is  wrong  with  you?" 

"I  get  small  joy  from  all  this,"  he  answered.  "Jeanne 
d'Arc  was  born  to  such  affairs,  but  I  was  better  off  in  my 
inn,  serving  my  people.  It  is  a  bad  business,"  and  he  was 
very  melancholy. 

"  What  is  this  you  say?  " 

"I  say  that  I  think  of  my  Bertha  and  my  mother.  I 
wish  I  were  with  them,  while  others  were  reforming 
Holland." 

"But  thy  mother  and  thy  sweetheart,  since  they  got 
into  the  hands  of  Oberthal,  are  doubtless  dead." 

"Then  there  is  little  for  me  to  fight  for.  I  shall  stop 
now;  do  you  carry  on  your  schemes  as  best  you  may. 
Who  is  that  prisoner?"  he  asked,  as  Oberthal  was 
brought  back  by  the  soldiers. 

"It  is  a  man  who  is  about  to  be  executed." 

"Oh  —  he  is?  Who  says  so,  since  I  say  otherwise?" 
John  replied,  looking  at  Zacharia  contemptuously.  "I 
am  thy  Prophet,"  he  declared  with  hardly  less  contempt 
in  his  tone  than  before.  "I  am  thy  Prophet  and  settle 
these  matters  of  life  and  death.  I  settle  this  one.  Yon- 
der man  shall  not  die.     I  am  in  a  humane  mood."     He 


The  Prophet  179 

motioned  the  guard  to  bring  Oberthal,  whom  he  had  not 
yet  seen,  before  him.  When  face  to  face,  John  of  Ley- 
den  lifted  his  eyes  and  looked  again  upon  the  man  who 
had  brought  all  his  woes  upon  him;  who  had  so  perse- 
cuted him  that  he  had  in  a  mad  moment  left  his  peace- 
ful inn,  and  undertaken  to  change  the  face  of  Germany. 
He  had  already  wrought  untold  pain  and  suffering. 

"Oberthal!"  he  said,  hardly  able  to  speak  because 
of  his  emotion. 

"Ah!  thou  wilt  still  treat  him  tenderly,  I  doubt 
not!"  Zacharia  cried,  sneeringly.  For  a  moment  John 
of  Leyden  could  not  speak;  then  he  said: 

"Leave  us!"  His  tone  was  awful,  yet  showed  great 
self-repression. 

"So!"  he  said,  after  gazing  at  Oberthal  a  moment. 
"Heaven  has  delivered  thee  into  my  hands!" 

"It  is  just.  My  crime  merits  my  punishment,"  Ober- 
thal said  in  a  low  voice.  "But  I  will  tell  thee  one  thing 
which  is  thy  due  and  may  save  my  soul  from  damna- 
tion: thy  Bertha,  to  save  herself  from  my  hands,  threw 
herself  into  the  sea,  and  thus  escaped  me." 

"Dead,  dead!"  John  of  Leyden  said,  bowing  his  head 
a  moment  upon  his  hands. 

"Nol  there  is  more.  Touched  with  remorse,  I  saved 
her." 

"And  then,  —  speak!" 

"She  fled  to  Miinster,  and  I  was  on  my  way  there  to 
find  her  and  to  try  to  restore  her  to  thee,  when  I  was 
arrested." 

"Oberthal,  thy  fate  shall  rest  with  her.  I  spare  thee 
till  she  shall  pronounce  sentence  upon  thee."  He  had 
no  sooner  spoken  than  Mathison  rushed  in  and  cried 
that  the  troops  had  rebelled,  and  that  John  alone  could 


l8o  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

stop  the  riot  and  stay  the  ruin.  "The  gates  of  Miinster 
have  been  thrown  open,  its  army  has  marched  upon  us, 
and  our  men  are  fleeing." 

"Run!  run!"  John  of  Leyden  shouted.  "After  them, 
and  turn  them  back.  Miinster  must  be  ours!"  And  he 
rushed  off,  the  Anabaptists  following. 

When  he  managed  to  rally  the  soldiers,  they  turned 
upon  him  and  accused  him  of  being  a  false  Prophet. 

"Ye  promised  us  to  take  Miinster;  thy  dallying  has 
lost  it  to  us.  We  shall  no  longer  tolerate  a  rule  like  thine. 
Thou  art  no  Prophet."  But  since  learning  that  Bertha 
was  within  the  city  of  Miinster,  John  of  Leyden's  pur- 
pose had  become  fixed.  If  he  entered  that  city  at  all, 
it  must  be  as  a  conqueror;  because  as  a  seditionist  his 
head  was  wanted  there.  Yet  if  he  did  not  enter  he  could 
not  find  Bertha. 

When  they  had  cried  death  to  the  Prophet,  John  of 
Leyden  calmly,  with  great  impressiveness,  made  them 
cower  before  his  rage. 

"I  punish  rebellion  like  this.  If  you  have  come  to 
grief  —  or  if  the  cause  shall  —  it  is  because  you  have 
offended  God  by  your  haste,  and  by  your  disobedience 
to  me,"  he  cried,  while  the  soldiers  shouted: 

"  He  speaks  like  a  holy  man!  We  have  done 
wrong." 

"  Get  to  your  knees,  you  impious  men ! "  he  cried,  seeing 
his  advantage  over  them,  and  they  all  fell  upon  their 
knees.  His  personahty  had  gained  the  control  over  a 
great  people  once  again.  With  this  spirit  of  enthusiasm 
aroused,  the  city  of  Miinster  was  soon  taken,  and  a  great 
hymn  of  triumph  went  up.  All  the  people  likened  John 
of  Leyden  to  David,  and  rallied  round  him,  proclaiming 
him  king. 


The  Prophet  i8i 

ACT  IV 

Before  the  city  hall  of  the  city  of  Miinster,  many 
citizens  were  collected,  and  many  were  continually  ar- 
riving, bearing  rich  bronzes,  and  chests  of  treasure,  which 
they  were  hoping  to  save  for  themselves  by  placing  them 
under  the  direct  protection  of  the  city.  The  invading 
hosts  of  John's  army  filled  all  with  fear.  No  one  was 
more  furious  against  the  Prophet  than  Bertha,  who,  be- 
ing in  Miinster,  had  no  thought  that  the  Prophet  who  had 
laid  waste  the  whole  country  could  be  her  beloved  sweet- 
heart. 

The  public  square  before  the  city  hall  was  soon  in- 
vaded by  the  soldiers  of  John,  who  were  crying,  "Long 
live  the  Prophet!"  while  answering  cries  of  "Down  with 
him!  down  with  thy  Prophet!"  were  courageously 
shouted  by  the  people  of  Miinster. 

"This  Prophet  who  is  to  be  crowned  King  of  the  Ana- 
baptists; he  is  of  Satan  and  not  of  Heaven ! "  The  whole 
city  was  full  of  despair. 

While  all  was  in  confusion.  Faith,  John's  mother,  was 
seen  to  wander  in  and  kneel  in  prayer. 

''What  art  thou  doing  there,  mother?"  one  of  the 
crowd  questioned. 

"I  am  praying  for  my  son.  I  am  begging  for  money 
that  I  may  buy  masses  for  his  soul.  I  am  hungry  and 
cold.  I  am  alone  in  the  world.  All  the  world  seems 
buried  in  grief.  I  pray.  There  is  no  other  hope  save  in 
prayer!"  she  moaned,  little  thinking  that  it  was  her  son 
who  had  brought  ui)on  a  nation  so  much  desolation,  and 
who  at  the  same  time  was  about  to  be  crowned  by  the 
revolutionists.  As  people  passed,  they  dropped  money 
into  her  hand,  and  some  led  her  a  httle   way  to  a  seat 


i82  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

where  she  could  rest  her  weary  body.  She  had  become 
very  old  and  trembling  since  that  night  when  she  had  last 
seen  her  son.  She  had  wandered  from  the  old  mn  m 
search  of  him,  and  had  never  found  him;  and  she  had  no 
sooner  left  the  old  home  than  Bertha,  saved  from  Ober- 
thal  had  flown  to  the  inn  again,  to  throw  herself  mto  the 
strong  arms  of  her  lover.  She  had  found  the  place  closed, 
for  Faith  and  John  had  gone,  no  one  knew  where.         _ 

After  begging  and  praying  in  the  public  square,  Faith 
found  herself  near  a  sick  and  almost  helpless  man,  close 
to  the  palace  toward  which  she  had  wandered.  Many 
people  were  about.  The  Prophet  was  going  to  be  crowned, 
so  it  was  rumoured.  Among  others,  Bertha  had  wan- 
dered near.  . ,  ^  .  ,  «t  *  ^ 
"Thou  poor,  helpless  brother,"  said  Faith.  Let  me 
out  of  my  poverty,  help  thee  a  little."  At  the  sound  of 
that  voice  Bertha  paused,  turned,  and  nearly  shrieked 
She  had  wandered  alone  and  hopeless;  and  there  stood 
Faith,  her  lover's  mother. 

-Oh,  dear  motherl"  she  cried,  and  they  threw  them- 
selves into  each  other's  arms. 

"Oh  mother!  How  I  sought  for  thee!"  she  sobbed. 
"Since'you  were  not  to  be  found  in  Leyden,  I  turned  my- 
self toward  Munster,  hoping  against  hope  to  find  you  or 
John.  Now  take  me  to  him.  Let  us  go  qmckly!  she 
urged,  but  old  Faith  held  back. 

"  My  child,  he  is  dead.  I  heard  a  voice  declare  to  me 
that  I  should  see  him  no  more.  It  was  an  unseen  voice. 
He  is  dead."  Whereupon,  both  women  fell  to  weeping 
in  each  other's  arms.  ,     ,        t.        t,*. 

"It  has  to  do  with  these  wicked  men  who  have  brought 
ruin  upon  Germany!  -  these  Anabaptists!"  Bertha  cried. 
"Oh  John,  if  thou  couldst  rise  from  thy  grave  and  help 


The  Prophet 


183 


me  now.  Thy  courage  and  goodness  would  raise  up  men 
to  drive  back  these  who  do  bad  deeds  in  the  name  of  God." 

She  cursed  the  famous  Prophet,  neither  of  them 
dreaming  who  he  might  be,  and  that  desolation  had 
come  because  the  man  whom  they  loved  best  had  sought 
revenge  for  the  wrongs  done  to  them.  With  those  curses 
in  their  hearts,  the  forlorn  women  wandered  on  with  the 
crowd  toward  the  cathedral  where  the  Prophet  was  to  be 
crowned. 

Some  of  his  suite  had  already  gone  into  the  church,  but 
many  were  arriving  in  a  grand  procession.  The  appear- 
ance of  the  Prophet's  guard  aroused  great  indignation 
among  the  citizens,  who  were  compelled  to  look  on 
helplessly. 

Then  came  the  Prophet  himself,  garbed  all  in  white, 
from  head  to  foot,  and  a  wonderful  march  was  being 
played,  while  the  spectacle  grew  each  moment  more  and 
more  magnificent. 


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x84 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


^^^m 


As  John  the  Prophet  passed,  the  revolutionary  crowd 
threw  themselves  at  his  feet;  young  girls  strewed  flowers 
in  his  path,  the  choir  chanted.  Then,  the  Anabaptists 
having  deposed  the  Elector  Princes,  were  to  take  their 
places.  The  Prophet  was  anointed  with  holy  oil,  a  great 
and  impressive  ceremony  took  place,  and  all  the  city  rang 
with  the  cries  that  proclaimed  him  king.  Faith  and 
Bertha  could  not  see  the  new  king,  but  they  were  in  the 
crowd,  and  they  cursed  this  Prophet  again  — none  so 
vigorously  as  Bertha,  while  Faith  hailed  her  as  a  new 
Judith.  After  a  time,  all  being  prostrate  upon  their 
knees  awaiting  the  reentrance  of  the  Prophet  from  the 
church,  John  appeared  upon  the  great  staircase  which 
led  from  the  cathedral.  As  he  stood  there  looking  un- 
happily upon  all  of  those  abased  people  who  seemed 
to  be  worshipping  him,  he  thought  he  heard  the  voice  of 
his  dream  of  long  ago.  "Woe  through  thee!  Let  him 
be  accursed!"  Overcome  by  the  memory,  he  uttered 
those  words  aloud.     Faith  heard  the  voice  and  screamed: 

"My  son!  my  son!"  John  of  Leyden  trembled  and 
started  toward  her,  his  arms  outstretched,  but  Mathison, 


The  Prophet  185 

knowing  the  disastrous  effect  such  an  acknowledgment 
would  have  upon  the  crowd  who  believed  him  of  holy 
origin,  said  in  a  low  voice  to  John: 

"Speak  !  reply  to  her,  and  she  shall  die,  instantly! 
Deny  thy  mother,  or  she  shall  be  killed  before  thine  eyes." 
The  Anabaptists  had  no  mind  to  lose  all  they  had  risked 
so  much  for,  when  it  was  just  within  their  grasp.  John 
looked  at  his  mother,  in  agony  and  then  he  regained  his 
self-possession. 

"Who  is  this  woman?"  he  asked:  it  was  to  save  her 
life  that  he  did  it. 

At  that  cold  denial  of  her,  Faith  clasped  her  hands  and 
wept.  Then  she  became  enraged  at  his  ingratitude,  and 
began  to  upbraid  him. 

"This  poor  wretch  is  mad,"  he  said,  but  by  that  time 
the  crowd  was  beginning  to  murmur  against  him. 

"He  said  he  was  the  son  of  God!  He  is  an  impostor." 
The  Anabaptists  seeing  how  fatal  the  effect  of  Faith's 
words  was  going  to  be,  spoke  menacingly  to  John.  Then 
John  cried,  as  Jonas  raised  his  sword  to  strike  the  old 
mother  down: 

"Hold!  respect  the  day!  I,  thy  Prophet,  hath  to-day 
received  His  crown.  No  bloodshed.  This  poor  creature 
is  demented.  A  miracle  alone  can  restore  her  reason," 
and  he  went  toward  Faith.  "Woman,  to  thy  knees!" 
he  said,  but  she  made  a  gesture  of  indignation.  He  con- 
tinued to  go  toward  her,  then  laying  his  hands  lovingly 
upon  her  head  he  looked  meaningly  into  her  eyes. 

"To  thy  knees."  His  voice  was  soft  and  gentle,  and 
slowly  Faith  fell  upon  her  knees,  half  comprehending  that 
he  was  acting  as  fate  compelled  him. 

"Put  up  thy  swords!"  he  commanded  the  people 
who  had    drawn    them.     Then    to    Faith:   "Thou   wert 


1 86  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

wrong,  good  mother!"    She  looked  at  him  a  moment 
longer. 

«  Yes!  — ^"wrong,"    she  said,  and  bowed  her  head.     At 
that  the  people  burst  into  cries  of  enthusiasm. 

"Is  he  thy  child?"  Jonas  asked  loudly,  placing  his 
sword-point  upon  her  breast. 

"Alas!  No,  he  is  not  my  son!"  she  answered  in  a 
weak  voice. 

"A  miracle!  A  miracle!"  all  cried,  and  then  the 
Prophet  passed  on.  Faith  looking  after  him  without  fol- 
lowing, the  people  again  acclaiming  him  with  joyous 
shouts. 

ACT  V 

In  a  dungeon  underneath  the  palace,  John  found  his 
mother.  He  went  to  the  place  where  he  had  privately 
ordered  the  Anabaptists  to  have  her  taken,  the  moment 
he  could  leave  the  ceremonies  of  his  coronation.  The 
feast  of  the  day  was  yet  to  come,  but  while  the  ceremonies 
had  been  going  on,  the  three  Anabaptists  had  had  a  mes- 
sage from  the  Emperor  of  Germany,  which  promised 
safety  to  themselves,  if  they  would  give  the  Prophet  into 
his  hands.  They  had  treacherously  decided  to  do  this 
at  the  coronation  feast. 

In  the  dungeon  the  poor  old  mother  had  huddled  down, 
no  longer  in  fear,  because  her  grief  had  rendered  her 
insensible  to  everything  else. 

"I  forgive  him,"  she  sobbed,  thinking  of  her  son. 
"Let  no  ill  come  to  him  for  what  he  has  done  to  me  this 
day."  As  she  was  thus  plunged  in  deepest  grief,  the 
iron  door  opened,  flambeaux  lighted  the  palace  up,  and 
the  guard  cried  the  Prophet's  name. 


The  Prophet  187 

"Woman,  get  upon  thy  knees;  the  Prophet  is  coming 
to  thee,"  an  officer  said. 

She  started  up:  "He  is  coming  here  —  I  shall  see 
him?"  she  whispered  to  herself.  Then  the  guard  left, 
and  John  of  Leyden  came  in.     He  ran  toward  his  mother. 

"Mother!     My  mother!"  he  cried. 

"Nay!"  she  answered.  "In  the  crowd  I  obeyed  thee 
—  I  read  some  strange  message  in  thy  face.  But  here, 
with  only  God's  eye  upon  thee,  go  down  on  thy  knees 
before  me." 

"Oh,  mother,  I  love  thee!" 

But  the  old  mother  reproached  him  with  what  he  had 
done  —  how  he  had  brought  a  people  to  despair  and  had 
imposed  himself  upon  them  as  the  son  of  God ;  but  all  the 
while  she  chided  him,  she  loved  him  dearly. 

"It  was  my  wrongs  that  made  me  do  this  thing, 
mother,"  he  urged. 

But  she  showed  him  all  his  wickedness  with  such  ve- 
hemence that  he  could  not  answer,  and  could  only  weep. 
Then  she  spoke  quietly. 

"  If  thou  art  remorseful  for  thy  sins,  proclaim  thy  wrong. 
Be  thyself,  John  of  Leyden,  the  innkeeper,  my  son!" 

"Desert  my  soldiers?"  he  asked,  in  a  frightened 
voice.  "I  have  led  others  into  danger  —  dare  I  desert 
them?" 

"Thy  mother  demands  it:  it  is  the  only  way  to  right 
thy  wrongdoing.  The  blessing  of  God  will  only  then 
descend  upon  thee."  The  Prophet,  overwhelmed  by  her 
command,  opened  his  arms  to  Heaven  as  a  sign  that  he 
would  obey,  and  Faith  threw  herself  upon  his  breast. 

Now  Bertha,  utterly  distracted  by  her  troubles,  had 
disguised  herself  as  a  pilgrim,  and  in  her  madness  she  had 
determined  to  set  fire  to  the  stores  of  wood  beneath   the 


1 88  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

palace.  She  found  her  way  into  the  dungeon  just  as  John 
and  his  mother  were  embracing.  As  the  iron  doors  were 
heard  to  open  again,  John  turned  around  and  saw  a  woman 
enter.     As  she  saw  John  she  cried  bitterly: 

"Behold  the  Prophet!"  Both  John  and  Faith  cried 
out  upon  recognizing  her  voice. 

"Now,  let  us  perish  together!"  Bertha  said,  wildly, 
approaching  John.  Then  suddenly  recognizing  him  she 
stifled  a  scream: 

"  Thou  1  the  Prophet  is  thou?  My  God,  my  God !  Then 
let  us  perish  now!"  She  stared  in  horror  at  the  man  she 
loved,  who  was  also  the  man  she  had  cursed  and  despised 
—  the  famous  Prophet. 

"Oh,  my  child,  speak  low,  speak  low!"  Faith  im- 
plored, looking  anxiously  toward  the  iron  door.  "Aban- 
don thy  hate.  I  have  found  my  son.  He  will  do  right. 
Have  pity  upon  him,"  the  old  mother  pleaded.  Bertha 
looking  at  him,  felt  all  the  love  of  her  heart  enfold  him 
again.    The  madness  died  out  her  eyes. 

"Yes.  Let  us  not  hate.  Let  us  curse  no  more.  Far 
from  this  dread  city,  we  three  were  to  have  been  happy. 
Yes,  I  love  thee  still;  but  still  thou  art  the  infamous 
man  whom  I  have  cursed.  Since  I  love  thee,  let  this 
atone  for  thee,"  and  before  he  could  answer,  she  had 
plunged  a  dagger  into  her  heart  and  fallen  dead  at  his 

feet. 

Then  John  summoned  the  guard.  He  no  longer  cared 
to  live.  The  officer  of  the  guard,  who  was  faithful  to 
him,  told  him,  when  he  entered,  of  the  plot  to  give  him 
over  to  the  Emperor,  while  the  coronation  feast  was  in 
progress. 

"Very  well.  I  am  satisfied.  Do  thou  take  my  mother 
to   a  place  of  safety.      I  shall  be  at   the  feast,"   he 


The  Prophet  189 

said  significantly.  Embracing  his  mother,  he  handed 
her  into  the  care  of  the  astonished  guard,  and  left  the 
dungeon. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  magnificent  than  the 
banquet  prepared  for  the  coronation.  The  tables  were 
loaded  with  golden  dishes,  and  young  women  passed,  scat- 
tering flowers,  while  pages  in  gay  dress  ran  hither  and 
thither.  There,  John  entered,  and  sat  apart,  as  had  been 
arranged.  He  was  pale  and  sad.  All  was  gaiety  about 
him,  but  he  had  prepared  an  awful  fate  for  his  betrayers. 
In  the  vaults  of  the  palace  were  stored  powder  and  fire- 
arms of  all  sorts.  Just  above  those  vaults  was  the  ban- 
queting room,  which  had  great  iron  gates  closed  at  one  end. 
The  company  could  only  leave  the  room  by  those  gates. 
John  of  Leyden  had  brought  two  ofiicers  whom  he  could 
trust  into  the  hall  with  him,  and  unheard,  he  commanded 
them  to  close  and  lock  the  gates  as  soon  as  the  Anabaptists 
Zacharia,  Mathison,  and  Jonas,  with  Oberthal,  the  great 
power  of  Miinster  and  the  Bishops  —  all  who  were  his 
enemies  and  to  whom  the  Anabaptists  meant  to  betray 
him  —  were  assembled. 

Then  the  feast  began.  All  hailed  the  Prophet  in  loud 
voices,  pretending  great  affection  and  faith  in  him.  In  the 
midst  of  a  dance  by  which  the  guests  were  entertained, 
Faith,  whom  he  thought  quite  safe,  entered.  She  knew 
what  he  had  done  —  that  he  meant  to  blow  up  the  palace 
by  firing  the  vaults  below,  and  she  had  determined  to  die 
with  her  son.     The  Prophet  had  not  yet  seen  her. 

The  Anabaptists  and  John's  enemies  spoke  apart,  and 
John  watched  them  cynically.  He  knew  well  what  they 
intended,  and  that  he  had  them  trapped. 

"Now  close  the  gates,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice  to  his 
ofiicers.     "Lock  them."     He  had  not  seen  his  mother. 


IQO  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

When  the  gates  were  closed,  he  turned  smilingly  to  the 
company.    He  called  for  wine. 

"Let  us  drink!  "  he  cried.  Then  Oberthal  rose  and 
shouted: 

"Thou  art  mine,  great  Prophet!  Surrender  thyself." 
Still  the  Prophet  smiled  at  them.    Jonas  then  cried: 

"  Yes,  thou  tyrant  —  thou  art  betrayed.  We  have 
thee  fast!    Surrender!" 

"Oh,  ye  poor  creatures,"  he  answered.  "Listen!  do  ye 
hear  nothing?"  Still  smiling  upon  them,  as  they  stared 
at  him,  they  heard  a  strange  rumbling  below.  The  train 
he  had  laid  to  blow  up  the  palace  had  fired  the  powder. 

"Thy  time  has  come!"  John  of  Leyden  cried,  and  the 
vast  hall  began  to  fill  with  smoke  and  powder  fumes. 
Riot  reigned,  and  just  at  that  moment  Faith,  her  gray 
hair  streaming  about  her,  pushed  through  the  crowd  and 
threw  herself  into  her  son's  arms.  He  gave  a  great  cry 
of  agony. 

"Mother!    Thou  art  here? " 

"To  die  with  thee,  my  son!"  she  shrieked,  and  with 
a  roar  the  palace  fell  about  their  earis. 


MOZART 

IT  IS  not  at  all  probable  that  anything  so  ridiculous  as 
the  "Magic  Flute "  story  was  ever  before  written.  It 
might  have  been  the  concerted  effort  of  Artemus  Ward, 
Theodore  Hook,  Bill  Nye,  and  Mark  Twain.  But  an 
effort  at  coherence  must  be  made  in  the  putting  together 
of  this  story,  because  the  opera  is,  above  all  things, 
one  that  every  man,  woman,  and  child  should  know. 
Mozart's  lovely  music  could  not  be  ruined,  even  by  this 
story. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  "Magic  Flute"  might  have 
had  some  Masonic  significance.  That  is  quite  likely, 
on  the  ground  that  it  has  no  other  significance  whatever. 

This  opera  proves  one  thing  beyond  a  doubt:  That 
Mozart  could  have  written  beautiful  music  with  the 
New  York  Directory  for  a  theme. 

Rossini  summed  up  Mozart  very  properly:  "Who  is 
the  greatest  musician  in  the  world?"  some  one  asked  him. 
"Beethoven,"  Rossini  answered.  "But  what  about  Mo- 
zart?" "Well,  you  see,  Mozart  is  the  07ily  musician  in 
the  world,"  he  answered,  allowing  of  no  comparisons! 
And  he  is  the  only  one,  yet,  to  some  of  us! 

That  he  was  a  man  of  the  most  fascinating  temper 
cannot  be  doubted,  when  one  reads  his  memoirs.  He 
was  without  any  financial  judgment.  He  could  make 
money,  but  he  couldn't  keep  it.  There  is  a  story  illus- 
trating the  dominance  of  his  heart  over  his  head,  told 
in  connection  with  an  offer  of  patronage  from  the  King 

191 


192  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

of  Prussia,  At  that  time  Mozart  was  Emperor  Leo- 
pold's musician,  and  when  he  went  to  Leopold  to  oflFer 
his  resignation  and  take  advantage  of  the  better  arrange- 
ment which  the  Prussian  King  had  offered,  Leopold 
said  urgently:  "But,  Mozart,  you  surely  are  not  going 
to  forsake  me? "  "No,  of  course  not,"  Mozart  answered 
hastily.  "May  it  please  your  Majesty,  I  shall  remain." 
When  his  friends  asked  him  if  he  had  not  been  wise 
enough  to  make  some  demand  to  his  own  advantage  at 
such  a  time,  he  answered  in  amazement:  "Why,  who> 
could  do  such  a  thing  —  at  such  a  time  ?  " 

His  sentiment  was  charming,  his  character  fascinating. 
He  married  Constance  Weber,  herself  a  celebrated  person. 
She  was  never  tired  of  speaking  and  writing  of  her  hus- 
band. It  was  she  who  told  of  his  small,  beautifully 
formed  hands,  and  of  his  favourite  amusements — playing 
at  bowls  and  billiards.  The  latter  sport,  by  the  way, 
has  been  among  the  favoured  amusements  of  many 
famous  musicians;  Paderewski  is  a  great  billiard 
player. 

As  a  little  child,  Mozart  had  a  father  who  "put  him 
through,"  so  to  speak,  he  being  compelled  to  play,  and 
play  and  play,  from  the  time  he  was  six  years  old.  At 
that  age  he  drew  the  bow  across  his  violin  while  standing 
in  the  custom-house  at  Vienna,  on  the  way  to  play  at 
Schonbrunn  for  the  Emperor,  and  he  charmed  the  oflScers 
so  much  that  the  whole  Mozart  family  baggage  was 
passed  free  of  tax.  While  at  the  palace  he  was  treated 
gorgeously,  and  among  the  Imperial  family  at  that  time 
was  Marie  Antoinette,  then  a  young  and  gay  princess. 
The  young  princesses  treated  little  Wolfgang  Mozart 
like  a  brother,  and  when  he  stumbled  and  fell  in  the  draw- 
ing room,  it  happened  to  be  Antoinette  who  picked  him 


The  Magic  Flute  193 

up.  "Oh,  you  are  good,  I  shall  marry  you!"  he  assured 
her.  On  that  occasion  the  Mozart  family  received  the 
sum  of  only  forty  pounds  for  his  playing,  with  some 
additions  to  the  family  wardrobe  thrown  in. 

Most  composers  have  had  favourite  times  and  seasons 
for  work  —  in  bed,  with  a  heap  of  sausages  before  them, 
or  while  out  walking.  Beethoven  used  to  pour  cold 
water  over  his  hands  till  he  soaked  off  the  ceiling  of  the 
room  below;  in  short,  most  musicians  except  Mozart 
had  some  surprising  idiosyncrasy.  He  needed  even 
no  instrument  when  composing  music.  He  could  enjoy 
a  game  of  bowls,  sitting  and  making  his  MS.  while  the 
game  was  in  progress,  and  leaving  his  work  to  take  his 
turn.  He  was  not  strong,  physically,  and  was  often  in 
poor  circimistances,  but  wherever  he  was  there  was  likely 
to  be  much  excitement  and  gaiety.  He  would  serenely 
write  his  music  on  his  knee,  on  his  table,  wherever  and 
however  he  chanced  to  be;  and  was  most  at  ease  when  his 
wife  was  telling  him  all  the  gossip  of  the  day  while  he 
worked.  After  all,  that  is  the  true  artist.  Erraticalness 
is  by  no  means  the  thing  that  makes  a  man  great,  though 
he  sometimes  becomes  great  in  spite  of  it,  but  for  the 
most  part  it  is  carefully  cultivated  through  conceit. 

Mozart's  burial  was  probably  the  most  extraordinary 
commentary"  on  fame  and  genius  ever  known.  The  day 
he  was  buried,  it  was  stormy  weather  and  all  the  mourners, 
few  enough  to  start  with,  had  dropped  off  long  before 
the  graveyard  was  reached.  He  was  to  be  buried  third 
class,  and  as  there  had  already  been  two  pauper  funerals 
that  day,  a  midwife's,  and  another's,  Mozart's  body  was 
to  be  placed  on  top.  No  one  was  at  the  grave  except 
the  assistant  gravedigger  and  his  mother. 

"Who  is  it?"  the  mother  asked. 


194  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"A  bandmaster,"  the  hearse  driver  answered. 

"Well,  Gott!  there  isn't  anything  to  be  expected  then. 
So  hurry  up!"  Thus  the  greatest  of  musical  geniuses 
was  done  with  this  world. 

Germany  has  given  us  the  greatest  musicians,  but  she 
leaves  other  people  to  take  care  of  them,  to  love  them, 
and  to  bury  them  —  or  to  leave  them  go  "third-class." 

THE  MAGIC  FLUTE 

CHARACTERS  OF  THE  OPERA 

Queen  of  the  Night. 

Pamina  (Queen's  daughter). 

Papagena. 

Three  ladies  of  the  Queen's  Court 

Three  Genii  of  the  Temple. 

Tamino,  an  Egyptian  Prince. 

Monostatos,  a  Moor  in  the  service  of  Sarastro. 

Sarastro,  High  Priest  of  the  Temple. 

Papageno,  Tamina's  servant. 

Speaker  of  the  Temple. 

Two  priests. 

Two  armed  men. 

Chorus  of  priests  of  the  Temple,  slaves,  and  attendants. 
The  scene  is  near  the  Temple  of  Isis,  in  Egypt. 
Composer:  Mozart. 

ACT    I 

Once  upon  a  time  an  adventurous  Egyptian  youth 
found  himself  near  to  the  Temple  of  Isis.  He  had  wandered 
far,  had  clothed  himself  in  another  habit  than  that  worn 
by  his  people,  and  by  the  time  he  reached  the  temple 
he  had  spent  his  arrows,  and  had  nothing  but  his  useless 
bow  left.  In  this  predicament,  he  saw  a  monstrous 
serpent  who  made  after  him,  and  he  fled.  He  had  nothing 
to  fight  with,  and  was  about  to  be  caught  in  the  serpent's 
fearful  coils  when  the  doors  of  the  temple  opened  and 


The  Magic  Flute  195 

three    ladies  ran   out,   each   armed  with   a  fine  silver 
spear. 

They  had  heard  the  youth's  cries  of  distress,  and  had 
rushed  out  to  assist  him.  Immediately  they  attacked 
the  monster  and  killed  it,  while  Tamino  lay  panting 
upon  the  ground.  When  they  went  to  him  they  found 
him  imconscious.  He  seemed  to  be  a  very  noble  and 
beautiful  youth,  whose  appearance  was  both  heroic 
and  gentle,  and  they  were  inspired  with  confidence  in 
him. 

"May  not  this  youth  be  able,  in  return  for  our  ser\dces 
to  him,  to  help  us  in  our  own  troubles?"  they  inquired 
of  each  other;  for  they  belonged  to  the  court  of  the  Queen 
of  the  Night,  and  that  sovereign  was  in  great  sorrow. 
Her  beautiful  daughter,  Pamina,  had  been  carried  away, 
and  none  had  been  able  to  discover  where  she  was  hidden. 
There  was  no  one  in  the  court  who  was  adventurous 
enough  to  search  in  certain  forbidden  and  perilous  places 
for  her. 

As  Tamino  lay  exhausted  upon  the  ground,  one  of 
the  women  who  had  rescued  him  declared  that  she  would 
remain  to  guard  him  —  seeing  he  had  no  arrows  —  while 
the  others  should  go  and  tell  the  Queen  that  they  had 
found  a  valiant  stranger  who  might  help  them. 

At  this  suggestion  the  other  two  set  up  a  great  cry. 

"You  stay  to  guard  the  youth!  Nay,  I  shall  stay 
myself.  Go  thou  and  tell  Her  Majesty."  Thereupon 
they  all  fell  to  quarrelling  as  to  who  should  remain  be- 
side the  handsome  youth  and  who  should  go.  Each 
declared  openly  that  she  could  gaze  upon  him  forever, 
because  he  was  such  a  beauty,  which  would  doubtless 
have  embarrassed  Tamino  dreadfully  if  he  had  not 
been  quite  too  tired  to  attend  to  what  they  said. 


196 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


The  upshot  of  it  was  that  all  three  went,  rather  than 
leave  any  one  of  them  to  watch  with  him.  When  they 
had  disappeared  into  the  temple  once  more,  Tamino 
half  roused  himself  and  saw  the  serpent  lying  dead  be- 
side him. 

"I  wonder  where  I  can  be?"  he  mused.  "I  was  saved 
in  the  nick  of  time:  I  was  too  exhausted  to  run  farther," 
and  at  that  moment  he  heard  a  beautiful  strain  of  music, 
played  upon  a  flute: 


t=t  T  f  r  [ 


"^rrfffffi 


u^=£MnL£^^.£f^=^ 


He  raised  himself  to  listen  attentively,  and  soon  he 
saw  a  man  descending  from  among  the  rocks  behind  the 
temple.  Still  fearful  of  new  adventures  while  he  was 
unarmed  and  worn,  Tamino  rose  and  hid  himself  in  the 
trees.    The  man's  name  was  Papageno,  and  he  carried 


The  Magic  Flute 


197 


a  great  cage  filled  with  birds  upon  his  back;  in  both  hands 
he  held  a  pipe,  which  was  like  the  pipe  of  Pan,  and  it 
was  upon  this  that  he  was  making  music.     He  also  sang: 


^^ 


^?=^ 


f=f: 


^ 


A      fow — ler      bold 


me  you  see, 


i^ 


^=iX 


m^ 


ic 


g 


man      of  mirth  and      min-strel-sy;  my    name  is  e — ver 


m       *       m            mi           y     m   ' 

(•}'.1S.  f — K — f    ^    g  -^ b— f 

-^^     J — >^ — ^/ — 2 — 5* V — 

-t^""— «=i=^- 

r^«^ — ?            .^- .-  "I    ''  .  L               ^ 

-^       U       '^y 

in    de-mand,    with  old    and  young  thro'out  the  land — 


I      set    my  traps,    the  birds  flock  round,    I 


whis tie,        and       they        know    the         sound. 

For  wealth  my  lot  I'd  not  resign, 
For  every  bird  that  flies  is  mine. 

I  am  a  fowler,  bold  and  free, 

A  man  of  mirth  and  minstrelsy; 

My  name  is  ever  in  demand, 

With  old  and  young  throughout  the  land. 

But  nets  to  set  for  pretty  maids: 

That  were  the  most  divine  of  trades. 

I'd  keep  them  safe  'neath  lock  and  key, 
And  all  I  caught  should  be  for  me. 

So  that  exceedingly  jolly  fellow  sang  as  he  passed 
Tamino.  He  was  about  to  enter  the  temple  when 
Tamino,  seeing  he  had  nothing  to  fear,  stopped  him. 


198  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Hello,  friend!    Who  are  you?" 

"I  ask  the  same,"  the  fowler  answered,  staring  at 
Tamino. 

"That  is  easily  answered.  I  am  a  prince  and  a  wan- 
derer.    My  father  reigns  over  many  lands  and  tribes." 

"Ah,  ha!  Perhaps  in  that  land  of  thine  I  might 
do  a  little  trade  in  birds,"  the  fowler  said,  jovially. 

"Is  that  how  you  make  your  living?"  Tamino  asked 
him. 

"Surely!  I  catch  birds  and  sell  them  to  the  Queen 
of  the  Night  and  her  ladies." 

"What  does  the  Queen  look  like?"  Tamino  asked, 
somewhat  curious. 

"How  do  I  know?  Pray,  who  ever  saw  the  Queen 
of  the  Night?  " 

"You  say  so?  Then  she  must  be  the  great  Queen 
of  whom  my  father  has  often  spoken." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder." 

"Well,  let  me  thank  you  for  killing  that  great  serpent. 
He  nearly  did  for  me,"  Tamino  replied,  taking  it  for 
granted  that  the  man  before  him  had  been  the  one  to 
rescue  him,  since  he  had  fallen  unconscious  before  he 
had  seen  the  ladies.  The  fowler  looked  about  at  the 
dead  serpent. 

"Perfectly  right!  A  single  grasp  of  mine  would  kill 
a  bigger  monster  than  that,"  the  fowler  boasted,  taking 
to  himself  the  credit  for  the  deed;  but  by  this  time  the 
three  ladies  had  again  come  from  the  temple  and  were 
listening  to  this  boastful  gentleman  with  the  birds  upon 
his  back. 

"Tell  me,  are  the  ladies  of  the  court  beautiful?"  Tamino 
persisted. 

"I  should  fancy  not  —  since  they  go  about  with  their 


The  Magic  Flute  199 

faces  covered.  Beauties  are  not  likely  to  hide  their 
faces,"  he  laughed  boisterously.  At  that  the  ladies 
came  toward  him.    Tamino  beheld  them  with  pleasure. 

"Now  give  us  thy  birds,"  they  said  to  the  fowler, 
who  became  suddenly  very  much  quieter  and  less  boast- 
ful. He  gave  them  the  birds  and  received,  instead  of 
the  wine  he  expected,  according  to  custom,  a  bottle 
of  water. 

"Here,  for  the  first  time,  her  Majesty  sends  you  water," 
said  she  who  had  handed  him  the  bottle;  and  another, 
holding  out  something  to  him,  said: 

"And  instead  of  bread  she  sends  you  a  stone." 

"And,"  said  the  other,  "she  mshes  that  ready  mouth 
of  yours  to  be  decorated  with  this  instead  of  the  figs 
she  generally  sends,"  and  at  that  she  put  upon  his  lips 
a  golden  padlock,  which  settled  his  boasting  for  a  time. 
"Now  indicate  to  this  youth  who  killed  that  serpent," 
she  continued.  But  the  fowler  could  only  show  by  his 
actions  that  he  had  no  idea  who  did  it. 

"Very  well;  then,  dear  youth,  let  me  tell  you  that  you 
owe  your  life  to  us."  Tamino  was  ready  to  throw 
himself  at  the  feet  of  such  beautiful  champions,  but 
one  of  them  interrupted  his  raptures  by  giving  him  a 
miniature  set  in  jewels. 

"Look  well  at  this:  our  gracious  Queen  has  sent  it 
to  you." 

Tamino  gazed  long  at  the  portrait  and  was  beside 
himself  with  joy,  because  he  found  the  face  very  beau- 
tiful indeed. 

"Is  this  the  face  of  your  great  Queen?"  he  cried. 
They  shook  their  heads.  "Then  tell  me  where  I  may 
find  this  enchanting  creature!" 

"This  is  our  message:    If  the  face  is  beautiful  to  thee 


200  Operas  Every  Child  Shoidd  Know 

and  thou  would'st  make  it  thine,  thou  must  be  valiant. 
It  is  the  face  of  our  Queen's  daughter,  who  has  been 
carried  away  by  a  fierce  demon,  and  none  have  dared 
seek  for  her." 

"For  that  beautiful  maiden?"  Tamino  cried  in  amaze- 
ment. "I  dare  seek  for  her!  Only  tell  me  which  way 
to  go,  and  I  will  rescue  her  from  all  the  demons  of  the 
inferno.  I  shall  find  her  and  make  her  my  bride." 
He  spoke  with  so  much  energy  and  passion  that  the 
ladies  were  quite  satisfied  that  they  had  found  a  knight 
to  be  trusted. 

"Dear  youth,  she  is  hidden  in  our  own  mountains, 

but "  At  that  moment  a  peal  of  thunder  startled 

everybody. 

"Heaven!  What  may  that  be?"  Tamino  cried,  and 
even  as  he  spoke,  the  rocks  parted  and  the  Queen  of 
the  Night  stood  before  them. 

"Be  not  afraid,  noble  youth.  A  clear  conscience  need 
have  no  fear.  Thou  shalt  find  my  daughter,  and  when 
she  is  restored  to  my  arms,  she  shall  be  thine."  With 
this  promise  the  Queen  of  the  Night  disappeared  as 
suddenly  as  she  had  come.  Then  the  poor  boastful 
fowler  began  to  say  "hm,  hm,  hm,  hm,"  and  motion 
to  his  locked  mouth, 

"I  cannot  help  thee,  poor  wretch,"  Tamino  declared. 
"Thou  knowest  that  lock  was  put  upon  thee  to  teach  thee 
discretion."  But  one  of  the  women  went  to  him  and 
told  him  that  by  the  Queen's  commands  she  now  would 
set  him  free. 

"And  this,  dear  youth,"  she  said,  going  to  Tamino 
and  giving  him  a  golden  flute,  "is  for  thee.  Take  it, 
and  its  magic  will  guard  thee  from  all  harm.  Wherever 
thou  shalt  wander  in  search  of  the  Queen's  daughter, 


The  Magic  Flute  201 

this  enchanted  flute  will  protect  thee.     Only  play  upon 
it.     It  will  calm  anger  and  soothe  the  sorrowing." 

"Thou,  Papageno,"  said  another,  "art  to  go  with 
the  Prince,  by  the  Queen's  command,  to  Sarastro's  castle, 
and  serve  him  faithfully."  At  that  the  fowler  was 
frightened  half  to  death. 

No  indeed!  that  I  decline. 

From  yourselves  have  I  not  heard 

That  he's  fiercer  than  the  pard? 
If  by  him  I  were  accosted 
He  would  have  me  plucked  and  roasted. 

"Have  no  fear,  but  do  as  you  are  bid.  The  Prince 
and  his  flute  shall  keep  thee  safe  from  Sarastro. 

I  wish  the  Prince  at  all  the  devils; 

For  death  nowise  I  search; 
What  if,  to  crown  my  many  evils, 

He  should  leave  me  in  the  lurch? 

He  did  not  feel  half  as  brave  as  he  had  seemed 
when  he  told  Tamino  how  he  had  killed  the  serpent. 

Then  another  of  the  ladies  of  the  court  gave  to  Papa- 
geno a  chime  of  bells,  hidden  in  a  casket. 

"Are  these  for  me?"  he  asked. 

"Aye,  and  none  but  thou  canst  play  upon  them. 
With  a  golden  chime  and  a  golden  flute,  thou  art  both 
safe.  The  music  of  these  things  shall  charm  the  wicked 
heart  and  soothe  the  savage  breast.  So,  fare  ye  well, 
both."  And  away  went  the  two  strange  adventurers, 
Papageno  and  Tamino,  one  a  prince,  the  other  a  bird- 
catcher. 

Scene  II 

After  travelling  for  a  week  and  a  day,  the  two  adven- 
turers came  to  a  fine  palace.  Tamino  sent  the  fowler 
with  his  chime  of  bells  up  to  the  great  place  to  spy  out 


202  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

what  he  could,  and  he  was  to  return  and  bring  the 
Prince  news. 

Without  knowing  it  they  had  already  arrived  at  the 
palace  of  Sarastro,  and  at  that  very  moment  Pamina, 
the  Queen's  daughter,  was  in  great  peril. 

In  a  beautiful  room,  furnished  with  divans,  and  every- 
thing in  Egyptian  style,  sat  Monostatos,  a  Moor,  who 
was  in  the  secrets  of  Sarastro,  who  had  stolen  the  Prin- 
cess. Monostatos  had  just  had  the  Princess  brought 
before  him  and  had  listened  malignantly  to  her  pleadings 
to  be  set  free. 

"I  do  not  fear  death,"  she  was  saying;  "but  it  is  certain 
that  if  I  do  not  return  home,  my  mother  will  die  of  grief." 

"Well,  I  have  had  enough  of  thy  moanings,  and  I 
shall  teach  thee  to  be  more  pleasing;  so  minions,"  calling 
to  the  guards  and  servants  of  the  castle,  "chain  this 
tearful  young  woman's  hands,  and  see  if  it  will  not  teach 
her  to  make  herself  more  agreeable."  As  the  slaves 
entered,  to  place  the  fetters  upon  her  hands,  the  Princess 
fell  senseless  upon  a  divan. 

"Away,  away,  all  of  you!"  Monostatos  cried,  just  as 
Papageno  peeped  in  at  the  palace  window. 

"What  sort  of  place  is  this?"  Papageno  said  to  him- 
self, peering  in  curiously.  "I  think  I  will  enter  and  see 
more  of  it."  Stepping  in,  he  saw  the  Princess  senseless 
upon  the  divan,  and  the  wretched  Moor  bending  over 
her.  At  that  moment  the  Moor  turned  round  and  saw 
Papageno.  They  looked  at  each  other,  and  each  was 
frightened  half  to  death. 

"Oh,  Lord!"  each  cried  at  the  same  moment.  "This 
must  be  the  fiend  himself." 

"Oh,  have  mercy!"  each  shrieked  at  each  other. 

"Oh,  spare  my  life,"  they  yelled  in  unison,  and  then, 


The  Magic  Flute  203 

at  the  same  moment  each  fled  from  the  other,  by  a  different 
way.  At  the  same  instant,  Pamina  awoke  from  her 
swoon,  and  began  to  call  pitiably  for  her  mother.  Papa- 
geno  heard  her  and  ventured  back. 

"She's  a  handsome  damsel,  and  I'll  take  a  chance, 
in  order  to  rescue  her,"  he  determined,  feeling  half  safe 
because  of  his  chime  of  bells. 

"Why,  she  is  the  very  image  of  the  Prince's  miniature 
and  so  it  must  be  the  daughter  of  the  Queen  of  the  Night," 
he  decided,  taking  another  good  look  at  her. 

"Who  art  thou?"  she  asked  him,  plaintively. 

"Papageno,"  he  answered. 

"I  do  not  know  the  name.  But  I  am  the  daughter 
of  the  Queen  of  the  Night." 

"Well,  I  think  you  are,  but  to  make  sure"  —  He 
pulled  from  his  pocket  the  portrait  which  had  been 
given  to  him  by  the  Prince  and  looked  at  it  earnestly 
for  a  long  time. 

"According  to  this  you  shouldn't  have  any  hands  or 
feet,"  he  announced  gravely. 

"But  it  is  I,"  the  Princess  declared,  looking  in  turn 
at  the  miniature.    "Pray,  where  did  you  get  this?" 

"Your  mother  gave  this  to  a  young  stranger,  who 
instantly  fell  in  love  with  you,  and  started  to  find 
you." 

"In  love  with  mc?"  she  cried,  joyfully. 

"  '^V)u'd  think  so  if  you  saw  the  way  he  carries  on  about 
you,"  the  fowler  volunteered.  "And  we  are  to  carry 
you  back  to  your  mother  even  quicker  than  we  came." 

"Then  you  must  be  very  quick  about  it,  because 
Sarastro  returns  from  the  chase  at  noon  exactly,  and  if 
he  finds  you  here,  you  will  never  leave  alive." 

"Good!     That  will  suit  the  Prince  exactly." 


204 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


"But  —  if  I  should  find  that,  after  all,  you  are  an 
evil  spirit,"  she  hesitated. 

"On  the  contrary,  you  will  find  in  me  the  best  spirits 
in  the  world,  so  come  along." 

"You  seem  to  have  a  good  heart." 

"So  good  that  I  ought  to  have  a  Papagena  to  share 
it,"  he  answered,  plaintively,  whereupon  Pamina  sang 
affectingly: 


Andantino. 


The     man — ly     heart  that  claims  our     du-ty, 


g 


&: 


Nm     -, 


i 


E 


±=t=e 


^E^^Et^^ 


-^-=^ 


must  glow  with      feehngs        high  and  brave. 

It  is  a  very  queer  and  incoherent  opera,  and  not  much 
sense  to  any  of  it,  but,  oh !  it  is  beautiful  music,  and  this 
duet  between  the  fowler  and  Pamina  is  not  the  least  of 
its  beauties.  At  the  end  of  it  they  rushed  off  together 
—  Pamina  to  meet  the  Prince  and  be  conducted  back 
to  her  mother. 

Scene  III 


In  the  meantime,  Tamino,  instead  of  looking  for 
Pamina  himself,  had  been  invoking  wisdom  and  help 
from  a  number  of  Genii  he  had  come  across.  There 
were  three  temples,  connected  by  colonnades,  and  above 
the  portal  of  one  of  these  was  written.  Temple  of  Wisdom; 
over  another,  Temple  of  Reason;  the  third.  Temple  of 


The  Magic  Flute  205 

Nature.  These  temples  were  situated  in  a  beautiful 
grove,  which  Tamino  entered  with  three  Genii  who  each 
bore  a  silver  palm  branch. 

"Now,  pray  tell  me,  ye  wise  ones,  is  it  to  be  my  lot 
to  loosen  Pamina's  bonds?"  he  asked  anxiously. 

"It  is  not  for  us  to  tell  thee  this,  but  we  say  to  thee, 
'Go,  be  a  man,'  be  steadfast  and  true  and  thou  wilt 
conquer."  They  departed,  leaving  Tamino  alone.  Then 
he  saw  the  temples. 

"Perhaps  she  is  within  one  of  these  temples,"  he 
cried;  "and  with  the  words  of  those  wise  Genii  in  my  ears, 
I'll  surely  rescue  her  if  she  is  there."  So  saying,  he  went 
up  to  one  of  them  and  was  about  to  enter. 

"Stand  back ! "    a  mysterious  voice  called  from  within. 

"What!  I  am  repulsed?  Then  I  will  try  the  next 
one,"  and  he  went  to  another  of  the  temples. 

"Stand  back,"  again  a  voice  called. 

"Here  too?"  he  cried,  not  caring  to  venture  far. 
"There  is  still  another  door  and  I  shall  betake  me  to  it." 
So  he  went  to  the  third,  and,  when  he  knocked,  an  aged 
priest  met  him  upon  the  threshold. 

"What  seek  ye  here?"  he  asked. 

"I  seek  Love  and  Truth." 

"That  is  a  good  deal  to  seek.  Thou  art  looking  for 
miscreants,  thou  art  looking  for  revenge?  Love,  Truth, 
and  Revenge  do  not  belong  together,"  the  old  priest 
answered. 

"But  the  one  I  would  revenge  myself  upon  is  a  wicked 
monster. " 

"Go  thy  way.  There  is  none  such  here,"  the  priest 
replied. 

"Isn't  your  reigning  chief  Sarastro?" 

"He  is  —  and  his  law  is  supreme." 


2o6  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"He  stole  a  princess." 

"  So  he  did  —  but  he  is  a  holy  man,  the  chief  of  Truth 
—  we  cannot  explain  his  motives  to  thee,"  the  priest  said, 
as  he  disappeared  within  and  closed  the  door. 

"Oh,  if  only  she  still  lives!"  Tamino  cried,  standing 
outside  the  temple. 

"She  lives,  she  lives!"  a  chorus  within  sang,  and  at 
that  reassurance  Tamino  was  quite  wild  with  happiness. 
Then  he  became  full  of  uncertainty  and  sadness  again, 
for  he  remembered  that  he  did  not  know  where  to  find 
her,  and  he  sat  down  to  play  upon  his  magic  flute.  As  he 
played,  wild  animals  came  out  to  listen,  and  they  crowded 
around  him.  While  he  was  playing,  lamenting  the  loss 
of  Pamina,  he  was  answered  by  Papageno  from  a  little 
way  off,  and  he  leaped  up  joyously. 

"Perhaps  Papageno  is  coming  with  the  Princess,"  he 
cried.  He  began  to  play  lustily  upon  his  flute  again. 
"Maybe  the  sound  will  lead  them  here,"  he  thought, 
and  he  hastened  away  thinking  to  overtake  them.  After 
he  had  gone,  Pamina  and  Papageno  ran  in,  she  having 
having  heard  the  magic  flute. 

"Oh,  what  joy !  He  must  be  near,  for  I  heard  the  flute," 
she  cried,  looking  about.  Suddenly  her  joy  was  dispelled 
by  the  appearance  of  Monostatos,  who  had  flown  after 
them  as  soon  as  he  discovered  Pamina's  absence. 

"Now  I  have  caught  you,"  he  cried  wickedly,  but 
as  he  called  to  the  slaves  who  attended  him  to  bind 
Papageno,  the  latter  thought  of  his  chime  of  bells. 

"Maybe  they  \\ill  save  me,"  he  cried,  and  at  once  he 
began  to  play.  Then  all  the  slaves  began  to  dance, 
while  Monostatos  himself  was  utterly  enchanted  at  the 
sweet  sound.  As  the  bells  continued  to  chime,  Mono- 
statos and  the  slaves  began  to  leave  with  a  measured  step. 


The  Magic  Flute  207 

till  the  pair  found  themselves  alone  and  once  more  quite 
safe.  Then  the  chorus  within  began  to  sing  "Long  life 
to  Sarastro,"  and  at  that  the  two  trembled  again. 

"Sarastro!  Now  what  is  going  to  happen?"  Papageno 
whispered. 

While  they  stood  trembling,  Sarastro  appeared,  borne 
on  a  triumphal  car,  drawn  by  six  lions,  and  followed  by 
a  great  train  of  attendants  and  priests.  The  chorus  all 
cried,  "Long  life  to  Sarastro!  Long  life  to  our  guard 
and  master!" 

When  Sarastro  stepped  from  the  car,  Pamina  knelt  at 
his  feet. 

"Oh,  your  greatness!"  she  cried.  "I  have  sorely 
offended  thee  in  trying  to  escape,  but  the  fault  was  not 
all  mine.  The  wicked  Moor,  Monostatos,  made  the 
most  violent  love  to  me,  and  it  was  from  him  I  fled." 

"All  is  forgiven  thee,  but  I  cannot  set  thee  free," 
Sarastro  replied.  "Thy  mother  is  not  a  fitting  guardian 
for  thee,  and  thou  art  better  here  among  these  holy 
I)eople.  I  know  that  thy  heart  is  given  to  a  youth, 
Tamino."  As  he  spoke,  the  Moor  entered,  followed  by 
Prince  Tamino.  For  the  first  time  the  two  lovers  met, 
and  they  were  at  once  enchanted  with  each  other. 

At  once  Monostatos's  anger  became  very  great,  since 
he,  too,  loved  the  Princess.  He  summoned  his  slaves  to 
part  them.  Kneeling  in  his  turn  at  Sarastro's  feet  he 
protested  that  he  was  a  good  and  valiant  man,  whom 
Sarastro  knew  well,  and  he  complained  that  Pamina  had 
tried  to  flee. 

"Thou  art  about  good  enough  to  have  the  bastinado," 
Sarastro  replied,  and  thereupon  ordered  the  slaves  to 
whip  the  false  Moor,  who  was  immediately  led  off  to  pun- 
ishment.    After  that,  Sarastro  ordered  the  lovers  to  be 


2o8  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

veiled  and  led  into  the  temple  to  go  through  certain 
rites.  They  were  to  endure  a  period  of  probation,  and 
if  they  came  through  the  ordeal  of  waiting  for  each  other 
properly  they  were  to  be  united, 

ACT  II 

The  priests  assembled  in  a  grove  of  palms,  where  they 
listened  to  the  story  of  Pamina  and  Tamino,  told  by 
Sarastro. 

"The  Princess  was  torn  from  the  Queen  of  the  Night, 
great  priests,  because  that  Queen  would  overthrow  our 
temple,  and  here  Pamina  is  to  remain  till  purified;  if 
you  will  accept  this  noble  youth  for  her  companion, 
after  they  have  both  been  taught  in  the  ways  of  wisdom, 
follow  my  example,"  and  immediately  Sarastro  blew  a 
blast  upon  a  horn.  All  the  priests  blew  their  horns  in 
concurrence. 

Sarastro  sang  a  hymn  to  the  gods,  and  then  he  and 
his  priests  disappeared.  Tamino  and  Papageno  were 
next  led  in  to  the  temple  porch.      It  was  entirely  dark. 

"Art  thou  still  near  me,  Papageno?  "  he  asked. 

"Of  course  I  am,  but  I  don't  feel  very  well.  I  think  I 
have  a  fever.    This  is  a  queer  sort  of  adventure." 

"Oh,  come,  be  a  man.    There  is  nothing  to  fear." 

The  priests  asked  Tamino  at  that  moment  why  he  had 
come  to  seek  entrance  in  the  temple. 

"I  came  to  find  Friendship  and  Love,"  he  replied. 

"If  you  would  have  that,  you  must  go  through  every 
trial;  and  how  about  you,  Papageno?" 

"Well,  I  do  not  care  as  much  as  I  might  for  wisdom. 
Give  me  a  nice  little  wife  and  a  good  bird-market,  and 
I  shall  get  on."' 


The  Magic  Flute  209 

"But  thou  canst  not  have  those  things,  unless  thou 
canst  undergo  our  trials." 

"Oh,  well,  I'll  stay  and  face  it  out  —  but  I  must  be 
certain  of  a  wife  at  the  end  of  it.  Her  name  must  be 
Papagena  —  and  I'd  like  to  have  a  look  at  her  before  I 
undertake  all  this  sort  of  thing,"  he  persisted. 

"Oh,  that  is  quite  reasonable  —  but  thou  must  promise 
not  to  speak  with  her." 

"And  Pamina?"  Tamino  suggested. 

"Certainly  —  only  thou  too  must  not  speak."  Thus  it 
was  agreed,  and  the  priests  went  out.  Instantly  the  place 
was  in  darkness  again. 

"I  should  like  to  know  why,  the  moment  those 
chaps  go  out,  we  find  ourselves  in  the  dark?"  Papageno 
demanded. 

"That  is  one  of  our  tests;  one  of  our  trials,"  Tamino 
responded.  "Take  it  in  good  part. "  He  was  interrupted 
by  the  appearance  of  the  three  ladies  of  the  Queen  of 
the  Night's  court. 

"Why  are  you  in  this  place?"  they  demanded  seduc- 
tively.    "It  will  ruin  you." 

"Do  not  say  so,"  Tamino  returned,  stoutly,  this 
being  one  of  the  temptations  he  was  to  meet:  but 
Papageno  was  frightened  enough.  "Stop  thy  babbling, 
Papageno,"  Tamino  cautioned.  "Or  thou  wilt  lose  thy 
Papagena." 

In  short,  the  ladies  did  all  that  was  possible  to  dis- 
hearten the  youth  and  Papageno;  but  the  Prince  Tamino 
stood  firm,  and  would  not  be  frightened  nor  driven  from 
his  vow  to  the  temple;  but  Papageno  found  himself  in 
an  awful  state  of  mind,  and  finally  fell  down  almost  in  a 
fit.     At  once  the  ladies  sank  through  the  temple  floor. 

Then  the  priests  and  a  spokesman  appeared  and  praised 


2IO  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Tamino,  threw  another  veil  over  him  and  led  him  out; 
but  when  a  priest  inquired  of  Papageno  how  it  was  with 
him,  that  fine  gentlemen  was  so  addled  that  he  couldn't 
tell. 

"For  me  —  I'm  in  a  trance,"  he  exclaimed. 

"Well,  come  on,"  they  said,  and  threw  a  veil  over  him 
also. 

"This  incessant  marching  takes  away  all  thought  of 
love,"  he  complained. 

"No  matter,  it  will  return";  and  at  that  the  priests 
marched  him  out,  and  the  scene  changed  to  a  garden 
where  Pamina  was  sleeping. 

Scene  II 

Monostatos  was  watching  the  beautiful  Pamina  sleep, 
and  remarking  that,  if  he  dared,  he  certainly  should  kiss 
her.  In  short,  he  was  a  person  not  to  be  trusted  for  a 
moment.  He  stole  toward  her,  but  in  the  same  instant 
the  thunder  rolled  and  the  Queen  of  the  Night  appeared 
from  the  depths  of  the  earth. 

"Away,"  she  cried,  and  Pamina  awoke. 

"Mother,  mother,"  she  screamed  with  joy,  while  Mono- 
statos stole  away.  "Let  us  fly,  dear  mother,"  Pamina 
urged. 

"Alas,  \A\h  thy  father's  death,  I  lost  all  my  magic 
power,  my  child.  He  gave  his  sevenfold  Shield  of  the 
Sun  to  Sarastro,  and  I  have  been  perfectly  helpless  since." 

"Then  I  have  certainly  lost  Tamino,"  Pamina  sobbed 
somewhat  illogically. 

"No,  take  this  dagger  and  slay  Sarastro,  my  love,  and 
take  the  shield.     That  will  straighten  matters  out." 

Then  the  bloody  Queen  sang  that  the  fires  of  hell  were 


The  Magic  Flute  211 

raging  in  her  bosom.  Indeed,  she  declared  that  if  Pa- 
mina  should  not  do  as  she  was  bidden  and  slay  the  priest, 
she  would  disown  her.  Thus  Pamina  had  met  with  her 
temptation,  and  while  she  was  rent  between  duty  and  a 
sense  of  decency  —  because  she  felt  it  would  be  very 
unpleasant  to  kill  Sarastro  —  Monostatos  entered  and 
begged  her  to  confide  in  him,  that  he  of  all  people  in 
the  world  was  best  able  to  advise  her. 

"What  shall  I  do,  then?"  the  trusting  creature  de- 
manded. 

"There  is  but  one  way  in  the  world  to  save  thyself  and 
thy  mother,  and  that  is  immediately  to  love  me,"  he 
counselled. 

" Good  heaven!  The  remedy  is  worse  than  the  disease," 
she  cried. 

"Decide  in  a  hurr}^  There  is  no  time  to  wait.  You 
are  all  bound  for  perdition,"  he  assured  her,  cheerfully. 

"Perdition  then!  I  won't  do  it."  Temptation  num- 
ber two,  for  Pamina. 

"Very  well,  it  is  your  time  to  die!"  Monostatos 
cried,  and  proceeded  to  kill  her,  but  Sarastro  entered 
just  in  time  to  encourage  her. 

"Indeed  it  is  not  —  your  schedule  is  wrong,  Monosta- 
tos," Sarastro  assured  him. 

"I  must  lool:  after  the  mother,  then,  since  the  daugh- 
ter has  escaped  me,"  Monostatos  remarked,  comforting 
himself  as  well  as  he  could. 

"Oh  don't  chastise  my  mother,"  Pamina  cried. 

"A  little  chastising  won't  hurt  her  in  the  least,"  Sa- 
rastro assured  her.  "I  know  all  about  how  she  prowls 
around  here,  and  if  only  Tamino  resists  his  temptations, 
you  will  be  united  and  your  mother  sent  back  to  her  own 
domain  where  she  Ix-longs.     If  he  sur\'ives  the  ordeals 


212  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

we  have  set  before  him,  he  will  deserve  to  marry  an  or- 
phan." All  this  was  doubtless  true,  but  it  annoyed  Pa- 
mina  exceedingly.  As  soon  as  Sarastro  had  sung  of  the 
advantages  of  living  in  so  delightful  a  place  as  the  temple, 
he  disappeared,  not  in  the  usual  way,  but  by  walking  off, 
and  the  scene  changed. 

Scene   III 

Tamino  and  the  speaker  who  accompanied  the  priests 
and  talked  for  them  were  in  a  large  hall,  and  Papageno 
was  there  also. 

"You  are  again  to  be  left  here  alone;  and  I  caution  ye 
to  be  silent,"  the  speaker  advised  as  he  went  out. 

The  second  priest  said : 

"Papageno,  whoever  breaks  the  silence  here,  brings 
down  thunder  and  lightning  upon  himself."  He,  too, 
went  out. 

"That's  pleasant,"  Papageno  remarked. 

"You  are  only  to  think  it  is  pleasant  —  not  to  men- 
tion it,"  Tamino  cautioned.  Meantime,  Papageno,  who 
couldn't  hold  his  tongue  to  save  his  life,  grew  thirsty. 
And  he  no  sooner  became  aware  of  it,  than  an  old  woman 
entered  with  a  cup  of  water. 

"Is  that  for  me?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  my  love,"  she  replied,  and  Papageno  drank 
it. 

"Well,  next  time  when  you  wish  to  quench  my  thirst 
you  must  bring  something  besides  water  —  don't  forget. 
Sit  down  here,  old  lady,  it  is  confoundedly  dull,"  the  ir- 
repressible Papageno  said,  and  the  old  lady  sat.  "How 
old  are  you,  anyway?" 

"Just  eighteen  years  and  two  minutes,"  she  answered. 


The  Magic  Flute  213 

"Um  —  it  is  the  two  minutes  that  does  it,  I  suppose," 
Papageno  reflected,  looking  at  her  critically. 

"Does  anybody  love  you?"     he    asked,    by   way   of 

satisfying  his  curiosity. 

"Certainly  —  his  name  is  Papageno." 

"The  deuce  you  say?  Well,  well,  I  never  would  have 
thought  it  of  myself.  Well,  what's  your  name,  mam?" 
but  just  as  the  old  lady  was  about  to  answer,  the  thunder 
boomed  and  off  she  rushed. 

"Oh,  heaven!  I'll  never  speak  another  word,"  Papa- 
geno cried.  He  had  no  sooner  taken  that  excellent 
resolution  than  the  three  Genii  entered  bearing  a  table 
loaded  with  good  things  to  eat.  They  also  brought  the 
flute  and  the  chime  of  bells. 

"Now,  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  and  a  better  time  shall 
follow,"  they  said,  and  then  they  disappeared. 

"Well,  well,  this  is  something  like  it,"  Papageno  said, 
beginning  at  once  to  obey  commands,  but  Tamino  be- 
gan to  play  upon  the  flute. 

"All  right;  all  right!  You  be  the  orchestra  and  I'll 
take  care  of  the  table  d'hote,''  he  said,  very  well  satisfied; 
but  at  that  instant  Pamina  appeared. 

She  no  sooner  began  to  talk  to  Tamino  than  he  mo- 
tioned her  away.    He  was  a  youth  of  unheard-of  fortitude. 

"This  is  worse  than  death,"  she  said.  She  found  her- 
self waved  away  again.  Tamino  was  thoroughly  proof 
against  temptation. 

Then  Pamina  sang  for  him,  and  she  had  a  very  good 
voice.  Meantime,  Papageno  was  sufllciently  occupied 
to  be  quiet,  but  he  had  to  call  attention  to  his  virtues. 
When  he  asked  if  he  had  not  been  amazingly  still,  there 
was  a  flourish  of  trumpets.  Tamino  signed  for  Papageno 
to  go. 


214  operas  Every  Child  ShotUd  Know 

"No,  you  go  first!"  Tamino  only  repeated  his  gesture. 

"Very  well,  very  well,  I'll  go  first  —  but  what's  to  be 
done  with  us  now?"  Tamino  only  pointed  to  heaven, 
which  was  very  depressing  to  one  of  Papageno's  temper- 
ament. 

"You  think  so!"  Papageno  asked.  "If  it  is  to  be 
anything  like  that,  I  think  it  more  likely  to  be  a  roasting. 
No  matter! "  Nothing  mattered  any  longer  to  Papageno, 
and  so  he  went  out  as  Tamino  desired,  and  the  scene 
changed. 

Scene  IV 

Sarastro  and  his  priests  were  in  a  vault  underneath 
one  of  the  temples.  There  they  sang  of  Tamino's  won- 
derful fortitude  and  then  said: 

"Let  him  appear!"  And  so  he  did.  "Now,  Tamino, 
you  have  been  a  brave  man  till  now;  but  there  are  two 
perilous  trials  awaiting  you,  and  if  you  go  through  them 
well  —  "  They  didn't  exactly  promise  that  all  should  be 
plain  sailing  after  that,  but  they  led  the  youth  to  infer  as 
much,  which  encouraged  him.  "Lead  in  Pamina,"  the 
order  then  was  given,  and  she  was  led  in. 

"Now,  Pamina,  this  youth  is  to  bid  thee  a  last  fare- 
well," Sarastro  said. 

Pamina  was  about  to  throw  herself  into  her  lover's 
arms,  but  with  amazing  self-control  Tamino  told  her  once 
more  to  "Stand  back."  As  that  had  gone  so  very  well, 
Sarastro  assured  them  they  were  to  meet  again. 

"I'll  bear  whatever  the  gods  put  upon  me,"  the  pa- 
tient youth  replied. 

Then  he  said  farewell  and  went  out,  while  Papageno 
(who  if  he  ever  did  get  to  Heaven,  would  surely  do  so  by 
hanging  on  to  Tamino's  immaculate  coat-tail)  ran  after 


The  Magic  Flute  215 

him,  declaring  that  he  would  follow  him  forever  —  and 
not  talk.  But  it  thundered  again,  and  Papageno  shrunk 
all  up. 

Then,  while  the  speaker  chided  him  for  not  being  above 
his  station,  Papageno  said  that  the  only  thing  he  really 
wanted  in  this  world  or  the  next  was  a  glass  of  wine:  he 
thought  it  would  encourage  him. 

"Oh,  well,  you  can  have  that,"  the  speaker  assured 
him,  and  immediately  the  glass  of  wine  rose  through  the 
floor.  But  he  had  no  sooner  drunk  that  than  he  cried 
out  that  he  experienced  a  most  thrilling  sensation  about 
his  heart.  It  turned  out  to  be  love;  just  love!  So  at 
once,  the  matter  being  explained  to  him,  he  took  his  chime 
of  bells,  played,  and  sang  of  what  he  felt.  The  moment 
he  had  fully  expressed  himself,  the  old  water  lady  came  in. 

"Here  I  am,  my  angel,"  she  said. 

"Good!  You  are  much  better  than  nobody,"  Papa- 
geno declared. 

"Then  swear  you'll  be  forever  true,"  she  urged. 

"Certainly  —  since  there  is  no  other  way  out  of  it." 
And  it  was  no  sooner  said  than  the  old  lady  became  a 
most  entrancing  young  one,  about  eighteen  years  old. 

"Well,  may  I  never  doubt  a  woman  when  she  tells  me 
her  age  again ! "  Papageno  muttered,  staring  at  her.  As 
he  was  about  to  embrace  her,  the  speaker  shouted: 

"Away;  he  isn't  worthy  of  you."  This  left  Papageno 
in  a  nice  fix,  and  both  he  and  the  girl  were  led  away  as 
the  Genii  appeared. 

The  Genii  began  to  sing  that  Pamina  had  gone  de- 
mented, and  no  wonder.  She  almost  at  once  proved 
that  this  was  true,  by  coming  in  carrying  a  dagger;  and 
she  made  a  pass  at  the  whole  lot  of  them.  No  one  could 
blame  her.     She  thought  each  of  them  was  Tamino. 


2i6  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"She's  had  too  much  trouble,"  the  penetrating  Genii 
declared  among  themselves.  "And  now  we'll  set  her 
right."  They  were  about  to  do  so  when  she  undertook 
to  stab  herself,  but  they  interfered  and  told  her  she 
mustn't. 

"What  if  Tamino  should  hear  you!  It  would  make 
him  feel  very  badly,"  they  remonstrated.  At  once  she 
became  all  right  again. 

"Is  he  alive?  Just  let  me  look  at  him,  and  I'll  be 
encouraged  to  wait  awhile."  So  they  took  her  away  to 
see  Tamino. 

Then  two  men  dressed  in  armour  came  in  and  said: 

He  who  would  wander  on  this  path  of  tears  and  toihng, 
Needs  water,  fire,  and  earth  for  his  assoiUng. 

which  means  nothing  in  particular.    Although  "assoiling" 
is  an  excellent  old  English  word. 

Then  Tamino  and  Pamina  were  heard  calling  to  each 
other.  She  entreated  him  not  to  fly  from  her,  and  he 
didn't  know  what  he  had  better  do  about  it,  but  the  mat- 
ter was  arranged  by  somebody  opening  some  gates  and 
the  lovers  at  once  embraced.  They  were  perfectly  happy, 
and  there  seemed  to  be  a  mutual  understanding  between 
them  that  they  could  wander  forth  together.  They  did 
so,  and  wandered  at  once  into  a  mountain  of  fire,  while 
Tamino  played  entertainingly  upon  his  flute.  Soon  they 
wandered  out  of  the  fire,  and  embraced  at  leisure.  Then 
they  wandered  into  the  water,  and  Tamino  began  again 
to  play  upon  his  flute,  the  water  keeping  clear  of  the  holes 
in  a  wonderful  way.  After  they  got  out  of  the  woods  — 
the  water,  rather,  —  they  embraced  as  usual,  and  the 
gates  of  the  temple  were  thrown  open  and  they  saw  a 
sort  of  Fourth-of-July  going  on  within.     Everything  was 


The  Magic  Flute  217 

very  bright  and  high-coloured.  This  would  seem  to  in- 
dicate that  their  trials  were  over  and  they  were  to  have 
their  reward.     Then  the  scene  changed. 

Scene  V 

Papageno  was  playing  in  a  garden,  all  the  while  call- 
ing to  his  Papagena.  He  was  really  mourning  for  his 
lost  love,  and  so  he  took  the  rope  which  he  used  as  a  girdle 
and  decided  to  hang  himself.  Then  the  Genii,  whose 
business  it  seemed  to  be  to  drive  lovers  to  suicide  and  then 
rescue  them  just  before  life  was  extinct,  rushed  in  and 
told  him  he  need  not  go  to  the  length  —  of  his  rope. 

"Just  ring  your  bells,"  they  advised  him;  and  he  in- 
stantly tried  the  same  old  efifect.  He  had  no  sooner  rung 
for  her  than  she  came  —  the  lovely  Papagena !  They 
sang  a  joyous  chorus  of  "pa-pa-pa-pa"  for  eight  pages 
and  then  the  Queen  of  the  Night  and  Monostatos,  find- 
ing that  matters  were  going  too  well,  appeared.  They 
had  come  to  steal  the  temple. 

"If  I  really  get  away  with  that  temple,  Pamina  shall 
be  3'ours,"  she  promised  Monostatos,  —  which  would 
seem  to  leave  Pamina  safe  enough,  if  the  circumstances 
were  ordinary.  Nevertheless  it  thundered  again.  No- 
body in  the  opera  could  seem  to  stand  that.  The  Queen 
had  her  three  ladies  with  her,  but  by  this  time  one  might 
almost  conclude  that  they  were  no  ladies  at  all.  The 
thunder  became  very  bad  indeed,  and  the  retinue,  Mono- 
statos, and  the  Queen  sank  below,  and  in  their  stead  Sa- 
rastro,  Pamina,  and  Tamino  appeared  with  all  the  priests, 
and  the  storm  gave  way  to  a  fine  day. 

Immediately  after  that,  nothing  at  all  happened. 


SIR  ARTHUR  SUIXIVAN 

SIR  ARTHUR  SULLIVAN  was  a  man  of  many 
musical  moods  and  varied  performances,  yet  his 
surest  fame,  at  present,  rests  upon  his  comic  operas. 

Perhaps  this  is  because  he  and  his  workfellow,  Gil- 
bert, were  pioneers  in  making  a  totally  new  kind  of  comic 
opera.  "Pinafore"  may  not  be  the  best  of  these  works, 
"Mikado"  may  be  better;  but  "  Pinafore  "  was  the  first 
of  the  satires  upon  certain  institutions,  social  and  poli- 
tical, which  delighted  the  English-speaking  world. 

Music  and  words  never  have  seemed  better  wedded 
than  in  the  comic  operas  of  Gilbert  and  Sullivan.  The 
music  is  always  graceful,  gracious,  piquant,  and  gaily 
fascinating.  The  story  has  no  purpose  but  that  of  carry- 
ing some  satirical  idea,  and  the  satire  is  never  bitter, 
always  playful. 

Sullivan's  versatility  was  remarkable,  his  work  ranging 
from  "grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe,"  and  his  was 
a  genius  that  developed  in  his  extreme  youth.  Many 
anecdotes  are  told  of  this  brilliant  composer,  and  all  of 
them  seem  to  illustrate  a  practical  and  resourceful  mind, 
while  they  show  little  of  the  eccentricity  that  is  supposed 
to  belong  to  genius.  It  was  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan  who  first 
popularized  Schumann  in  England.  Potter,  head  of  the 
Royal  Academy  in  London  in  1861,  had  known  Beethoven 
well,  and  had  never  been  converted  to  a  love  of  music 
less  great  than  his  —  nor  was  his  taste  very  catholic  — 
and  he  continually  regretted  Sullivan's  championship  of 

218 


E.  M.  S.  Pinafore  219 

Schumann's  music.  But  one  day  Sullivan,  suspecting  the 
academician  didn't  know  what  he  was  talking  about,  asked 
him  point-blank  if  he  had  ever  heard  any  of  the  music  he 
so  strongly  condemned.  Potter  admitted  that  he  hadn't. 
Whereupon  Sullivan  said,  "Then  play  some  of  Schumarm 
with  me,  Mr.  Potter,"  and,  having  done  so.  Potter  "blindly 
worshipped"  Schumann  even  after. 

Frederick  Crowest  tells  this  story  in  his  "Musicians' 
Wit,  Humour,  and  Anecdote": 

"The  late  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan,  in  the  struggling  years 
of  his  career,  once  showed  great  presence  of  mind,  which 
saved  the  entire  breakdown  of  a  performance  of  'Faust.' 
In  the  midst  of  the  church  scene,  the  wire  connecting  the 
pedal  under  Costa's  foot  with  the  metronome  stick  at  the 
organ,  broke.  Costa  was  the  conductor.  In  the  con- 
certed music  this  meant  disaster,  as  the  organist  could 
hear  nothing  but  his  own  instrument.  Quick  as  thought, 
while  he  was  playing  the  introductory  solo,  Sullivan 
called  a  stage  hand.  'Go,'  he  said,  'and  tell  Mr.  Costa 
that  the  wire  is  broken,  and  that  he  is  to  keep  liis  ears 
open  and  follow  me.'  No  sooner  had  the  man  flown  to 
deliver  his  message  than  the  full  meaning  of  the  words 
flashed  upon  Sullivan.  What  would  Costa,  autocratic, 
severe,  and  quick  to  take  offence,  say  to  such  a  message 
delivered  by  a  stage  hand?  The  scene,  however,  pro- 
ceeded successfully,  and  at  the  end  Sullivan  went,  nerv- 
ously enough,  to  tender  his  apologies  to  his  chief.  Costa, 
implacable  as  he  was,  had  a  strong  sense  of  justice,  and  the 
great  conductor  never  forgot  the  signal  service  his  young 
friend  had  rendered  him  by  preventing  a  horrible  fiasco." 

There  are  numberless  stories  of  his  suiting  his  compo- 
sition to  erratic  themes.  Beverley  had  painted  borders 
for    a    woodland    scene.      Sullivan  liked  the  work  and 


220  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

complimented  Beverley,  who  immediately  said:  "Yes, 
and  if  you  could  compose  something  to  fit  it  now."  In- 
stantly, Sullivan,  who  was  at  the  organ,  composed  a  score 
within  a  few  minutes  which  enraptured  the  painter  and 
which  ''fitted"  his  borders. 

Again:  A  dance  was  required  at  a  moment's  notice 
for  a  second  danseuse,  and  the  stage  manager  was  dis- 
tracted. "You  must  make  something  at  once,  Sullivan," 
he  said.  "But,"  replied  the  composer,  "I  haven't  even 
seen  the  girl.  I  don't  know  her  style  or  what  she  needs. " 
However,  the  stage  manager  sent  the  dancer  to  speak 
with  Sullivan,  and  presently  he  called  out:  "I've  arranged 
it  all.  This  is  exactly  what  she  wants:  Tiddle-iddle-um, 
tiddle-iddle-um,  rum-tirum-tirum  —  sixteen  bars  of  that; 
then:  rum-tum-rum-tum  —  heavy  you  know — "  and  in 
ten  minutes  the  dance  was  made  and  ready  for  rehearsal. 

H.  M.  S.*  "  PINAFORE  " 
The  Right  Honourable  Sir  Joseph 

Porter,  K.  C.  B.   .       .       .       First  Lord  of  the  Admiralty. 


Captain  Corcoran 
Ralph  Rackstraw 
Dick  Deadeye 
Bill  Bobstay  . 
Bob  Becket    . 
Tom  Tucker 
Sergeant  of  marines 
Josephine 
Hebe       .       .       . 
Little  Buttercup 


Commanding  H.  M.  S.  Pinafore. 
Able  seaman. 
Able  seaman. 
Boatswain's  mate. 
Carpenter's  mate. 
Midshipmite. 

The  Captain's  daughter. 
Sir  Joseph's  first  cousin. 
A  Portsmouth  bum-boat  woman. 


First  Lord's  sisters,  his  cousins,  his  aunts,  sailors,  marines,  etc. 

The  story  takes  place  on  the  quarter-deck  of  H.  M.  S.  Pinafore,  off 
Portsmouth. 

Composer:  Sir  Arthur  Sullivan.     Author:  W.  S.  Gilbert. 
ACT  I 

On  the  quarterdeck  of  the  good  ship  Pinafore,  along 
about  noon,  on  a  brilliant  sunny  day,  the  sailors,  in  charge 
*  Her  Majesty's  Ship. 


E.  M.  S.  Pinafore  221 

of  the  Boatswain,  are  polishing  up  the  bmsswork  of  the 
ship,  spUcing  rope,  and  doing  general  housekeeping,  for  the 
excellent  reason  that  the  high  cockalorum  of  the  navy 
—  the  Admiral,  Sir  Joseph  Porter  —  together  with  all  his 
sisters  and  his  cousins  and  his  aunts,  is  expected  on  board 
about  luncheon  time.  When  an  Admiral  goes  visiting 
either  on  land  or  sea,  there  are  certain  to  be  "doings,"  and 
there  are  going  to  be  mighty  big  doings  on  this  occasion. 
If  sailors  were  ever  proud  of  a  ship,  those  of  the  Pinafore 
are  they.  The  Pinafore  was,  in  fact,  the  dandiest  thing 
afloat.  No  sailor  ever  did  anything  without  singing  about 
it,  and  as  they  "Heave  ho,  my  hearties" — or  whatever  it 
is  sailors  do — they  sing  their  minds  about  the  Pinafore 
in  a  way  to  leave  no  mistake  as  to  their  opinions. 

We  sail  the  ocean  blue, 

And  our  saucy  ship's  a  beauty. 
We're  sober  men  and  true, 

And  attentive  to  our  duty. 

When  the  balls  whistle  free, 
O'er  the  bright  blue  sea, 

We  stand  to  our  guns  all  day. 
When  at  anchor  we  ride. 
On  the  Portsmouth  tide, 

We  've  plenty  of  time  for  play  —  Ahoy,  Ahoy  I 

and  then,  while  they  are  polishing  at  top  speed,  on  board 
scrambles  Little  Buttercup.  Naturally,  being  a  bum- 
boat  woman,  she  had  her  basket  on  her  arm. 

"Little  Buttercup!"  the  crew  shouts;  they  know  her 
well  on  pay-day. 

"Yes  —  here's  an  end  at  last  of  all  privation,"  she  as- 
sures them,  spreading  out  her  wares,  and  this  ridiculous 
"little"  Buttercup  sings: 


S^ 


-J!^-*- 


I'm  called  lit-tle        But-ter-cup,     Dear  little 


322 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


■/       .                        ,#■-'■■*■■  -f        •       -l     .    ..■      . 

^^    ^  ^  ^ — r  r  r  — t-j^ 

But — ter — cup,  though  I     could      never        tell      why, 


5=fe 


^-^ 


^ 


But     still  I'm   called     But-ter-cup,    Poor  lit — tie 


Ei5 


=t 


But-ter— cup,  Sweet     lit-tle        But-ter — cup      I 

I've  snuff  and  tobaccy, 
And  excellent  jacky; 

I've  scissors  and  watches  and  knives. 
I've  ribbons  and  laces 
To  set  off  the  faces 

Of  pretty  young  sweethearts  and  wives. 
I've  treacle  and  toffee, 
I've  tea  and  I've  coffee, 

Soft  tommy  and  succulent  chops, 
I've  chickens  and  conies, 
I've  pretty  polonies, 

And  excellent  peppermint  drops  — 

which  would  imply  that  Little  Buttercup  might  supply 
on  demand  anything  from  a  wrought-iron  gate  to  a 
paper  of  toothpicks. 

"Well,  Little  Buttercup,  you're  the  rosiest  and  round- 
est beauty  in  all  the  navy,  and  we're  always  glad  to  see 
you." 

"The  rosiest  and  roundest,  eh?  Did  it  ever  occur  to 
you  that  beneath  my  gay  exterior  a  fearful  tragedy  may 
be  brewing?"  she  asks  in  her  most  mysterious  tones. 

"We  never  thought  of  that,"  the  Boatswain  reflects. 

"I  have  thought  of  it  often,"  a  growling  voice  inter- 
rupts, and  everybody  looks  up  to  see  Dick  Deadeye. 
Dick  is  a  darling,  if  appearances  count.  He  was  named 
Deadeye  because  he  haA  a  dead-eye,  and  he  is  about  as 


H.  M.  S.  Pinafore  223 

sinister  and  ominous  a  creature  as  ever  made  a  comic 
opera  shiver. 

"You  look  as  if  you  had  often  thought  of  it,"  some- 
body retorts,  as  all  mo^'e  away  from  him  in  a  manner 
which  shows  Dick  to  be  no  favourite. 

''You  don't  care  much  about  me,  I  should  say?"  Dick 
offers,  looking  about  at  his  mates. 

"Well,  now,  honest,  Dick,  ye  can't  just  expect  to  be 
loved,  with  such  a  name  as  Deadeye." 

Little  Buttercup,  who  has  been  offering  her  wares  to 
the  other  sailors,  now  observes  a  very  good-looking  chap 
coming  on  deck. 

"Who  is  that  youth,  whose  faltering  feet  with  diffi- 
culty bear  him  on  his  course?"  Buttercup  asks  —  which 
is  quite  ridiculous,  if  you  only  dissect  her  language! 
Those  "faltering  feet  which  with  difficulty  bear  him  on 
his  course"  belong  to  Ralph  Rackstraw,  who  is  about 
the  most  dashing  sailor  in  the  fleet.  The  moment  Butter- 
cup hears  his  name,  she  gasps  to  music: 

"Remorse,  remorse,"  which  is  very,  very  funny  in- 
deed, since  there  appears  to  be  nothing  at  all  remarkable 
or  remorseful  about  Ralph  Rackstraw.  But  Ralph  im- 
mediately begins  to  sing  about  a  nightingale  and  a  moon's 
bright  ray  and  several  other  things  most  inappropriate 
to  the  occasion,  and  winds  up  with  "He  sang,  Ah,  well-a- 
day,"  in  the  most  pathetic  manner.  The  other  sailors 
repeat  after  him,"  Ah,  well-a-day,"  also  in  a  very  pa- 
thetic manner,  and  Ral[)h  thanks  them  in  the  politest, 
most  heartbroken  manner,  by  saying: 

I  know  the  value  of  a  kindly  chorus, 

But  choruses  \iel(I  little  consolation 
When  we  have  j)ain  and  sorrow,  too,  before  us! 

I  love,  and  love,  alas!  aijove  my  station. 


224  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Which  lets  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,  at  last!  "He  loves 
above  his  station!"  Buttercup  sighs,  and  pretty  much 
the  entire  navy  sighs.  Those  sailors  are  very  sentimental 
chaps,  very! — They  are  supposed  to  have  a  sweet- 
heart in  every  port,  though,  to  be  sure,  none  of  them  are 
likely  be  above  anybody's  station.  But  their  sighs  are 
an  encouragement  to  Ralph  to  tell  all  about  his  sweet- 
heart, and  he  immediately  does  so.  He  sings  rapturously 
of  her  appearance  and  of  how  unworthy  he  is.  The  crew 
nearly  melts  to  tears  during  the  recital.  Just  as  Ralph 
has  revealed  that  his  love  is  Josephine,  the  Captain's 
daughter,  and  all  the  crew  but  Dick  Deadeye  are  about 
to  burst  out  weeping,  the  Captain  puts  in  an  appearance. 

" My  gallant  crew,  —  good  morning! "  he  says  amiably, 
in  that  condescending  manner  quite  to  be  expected  of  a 
Captain.  He  inquires  nicely  about  the  general  health 
of  the  crew,  and  announces  that  he  is  in  reasonable 
health  himself.  Then  with  the  best  intentions  in  the 
world,  he  begins  to  throw  bouquets  at  himself: 

I  am  the  Captain  of  the  Pinafore, 
he  announces,  and  the  crew  returns: 
And  a  right  good  Captain  too. 

You're  very,  very  good, 

And  be  it  understood, 

I  command  a  right  good  crew, 

he  assures  them. 

Tho'  related  to  a  peer, 
I  can  hand,  reef  and  steer, 

Or  ship  a  selvagee; 
I'm  never  known  to  quail 
At  the  fury  of  a  gale,  — 

And  I'm  never,  never  sick  at  sea! 

But  this  is  altogether  too  much.  The  crew  haven't  sum- 
mered and  wintered  with  this  gallant  Captain  for  nothing. 


E.  M.  S.  Pinafore  225 

"What,  never  ?"   they  admonish  him. 

"No,  —  never." 

"What!  —  NEVER?"  and  there  is  no  mistaking  their 
emphasis. 

"Oh,  well — hardly  ever!"  he  admits,  trimming  his 
statement  a  Httle:  and  thus  harmony  is  restored.  Now 
when  he  has  thus  agreeably  said  good  morning  to  his 
crew,  they  leave  him  to  meditate  alone,  and  no  one  but 
Little  Buttercup  remains.  For  some  reason  she  per- 
ceives that  the  Captain  is  sad.  He  doesn't  look  it,  but 
the  most  comic  moments  in  comic  opera  are  likely  enough 
to  be  the  saddest.  Hence  Little  Buttercup  reminds  him 
that  she  is  a  mother  (she  doesn't  look  it)  and  therefore 
to  be  confided  in. 

"If  you  must  must  know,  Little  Buttercup,  my  daugh- 
ter Josephine!  the  fairest  flower  that  ever  blossomed 
on  ancestral  timber  "  —  which  is  very  neat  indeed  — 
"has  received  an  offer  of  marriage  from  Sir  Joseph  Porter. 
It  is  a  great  honour,  Little  Buttercup,  but  I  am  sorry  to 
say  my  daughter  doesn't  seem  to  take  kindly  to  it." 

"Ah,  poor  Sir  Joseph,  I  know  perfectly  what  it  means 
to  love  not  wisely  but  too  well,"  she  remarks,  sighing 
tenderly  and  looking  most  sentimentally  at  the  Captain. 
She  does  this  so  capably  that  as  she  goes  off  the  deck  the 
Captain  looks  after  her  and  remarks  abstractedly: 

"A  plump  and  pleasing  person!"  At  this  blessed 
minute  the  daughter  Josephine,  who  does  not  love  in  the 
right  place,  and  who  is  beloved  from  all  quarters  at  once, 
wanders  upon  the  deck  with  a  basket  of  flowers  in  her 
hand.  Then  she  begins  to  sing  very  distractedly  about 
loving  the  wrong  man,  and  that  "hope  is  dead,"  and 
several  other  pitiable  things,  which  are  very  funny. 
The  Captain,  her  father,  is  watching  her,  and  presently 


226  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

he  admonishes  her  to  look  her  best,  and  to  stop  sighing 
all  over  the  ship  —  at  least  till  her  high-born  suitor, 
Sir  Joseph  Porter,  shall  have  made  his  expected  visit. 

"You  must  look  your  best  to-day,  Josephine,  because 
the  Admiral  is  coming  on  board  to  ask  your  hand  in  mar- 
riage."   At  this  Josephine  nearly  drops  into  the  sea. 

"Father,  I  esteem,  I  reverence  Sir  Joseph  but  alas 
I  do  not  love  him.  I  have  the  bad  taste  instead  to  love 
a  lowly  sailor  on  board  your  own  ship.  But  I  shall  stifle 
my  love.  He  shall  never  know  it  though  I  carry  it 
to  the  tomb." 

"That  is  precisely  the  spirit  I  should  expect  to  behold 
in  my  daughter,  my  dear,  and  now  take  Sir  Joseph's 
picture  and  study  it  well.  I  see  his  barge  approaching. 
If  you  gaze  upon  the  pictured  noble  brow  of  the  Admiral, 
I  think  it  quite  likely  that  you  will  have  time  to  fall  madly 
in  love  with  him  before  he  can  throw  a  leg  over  the  rail, 
my  darling.     Anyway,  do  your  best  at  it." 

"My  own,  thoughtful  father,"  Josephine  murmurs 
while  a  song  of  Sir  Joseph's  sailors  is  heard  approaching 
nearer  and  nearer.  Then  the  crew  of  H.  M.  S.  Pinafore 
take  up  the  shout,  and  sing  a  rousing  welcome  to  Sir 
Joseph  and  all  his  party.  Almost  immediately  Sir  Joseph 
and  his  numerous  company  of  sisters  and  cousins  and 
aunts  prance  upon  the  shining  deck.  They  have  a  gor- 
geous time  of  it. 

"Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah!"  the  Captain  and  his  crew 
cry,  and  then  Sir  Joseph  informs  everybody  of  his  great- 
ness in  this  song: 


m 


siz; 


-tr ^ — • — • 

I       am     the     mon  —  arch         of         the 


H.  M.  S.  Pinafore 


227 


g 


f 


-5t- 


sea, 

The 

ru— ler        of        the    Queen's  Na- ^ 

y        1 

1                      1                      1                      1 

1            1            1      1 

/f  T                  ^ 

1           1           1 

1 

r"^        J      "^     1 

\s )          ^J 

« 

m           m           m 

^          S          d      I 

tJ              -d- 

vee,     Whose  praise  Great     Bri  —  tain    loud  —  ly    chants; 
Cousin  Hebe, 


g 


^ 


^=:^ 


i 


4^ 


17 


And    we     are  his    Sis-ters  and  his    Cou-sins  and  his  Aunts; 


5;=l^ 


:^ 


I 


U^ 


His    Sis-ters  and  his  Cou-sins    and  his    Aunts! 

When  at  anchor  here  I  ride, 
My  bosom  swells  with  pride, 
And  I  snap  my  fingers  at  the  foeman  's  taunts  — 

The  chorus  assures  everybody  that 

So  do  his  sisters  and  his  cousins  and  his  aunts. 

In  short,  while  we  learn  from  Sir  Joseph  that  he  is 
a  tremendous  fellow,  we  also  learn,  from  his  sisters  and 
his  cousins  and  his  aunts,  that  they  are  whatever  he  is. 
Among  other  things  he  tells  precisely  how  he  came  to  be 
so  great,  and  gives  what  is  presumbly  a  recipe  for  similar 
greatness: 


WTien  I  was  a  lad  I  served  a  term 

As  office  bo}'  to  an  attorney's  firm. 

I  cleaned  the  window  and  I  swept  the  floor, 

And  I  polished  up  the  handle  of  the  big  front  door. 


I  poUshed  up  the  handle  so  carefullee. 

That  now  I  am  the  ruler  of  the  Queen's  Navee. 


228  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

As  oflBce  boy  I  made  such  a  mark 

That  they  gave  me  the  post  of  a  junior  clerk. 

I  served  the  wits  with  a  smile  so  bland, 

And  I  copied  all  the  letters  in  a  big  round  hand. 

I  copied  all  the  letters  in  a  hand  so  free, 
That  now  I  am  the  niler  of  the  Queen's  Navee. 

In  serving  writs  I  made  such  a  name 
That  an  articled  clerk  I  soon  became. 
I  wore  clean  collars  and  a  brand  new  suit 
For  the  pass  examination  at  the  Institute. 

And  that  pass  examination  did  so  well  for  me 
That  now  I  am  the  ruler  of  the  Queen's  Navee. 

This  was  only  a  part  of  the  recipe,  but  the  rest  of  it 
was  just  as  profound.  After  he  is  through  exploiting 
himself,  he  bullies  the  Captain  a  little,  and  then  his  eye 
alights  on  Ralph  Rackstraw. 

"You  are  a  remarkably  fine  fellow,  my  lad,"  he  says 
to  Ralph  quite  patronizingly. 

"I  am  the  very  finest  fellow  in  the  navy,"  Ralph  re- 
turns, honouring  the  spirit  of  the  day  by  showing  how 
entirely  satisfied  with  himself  he  is. 

"How  does  your  Captain  behave  himself?  "  Sir  Joseph 
asks. 

"Very  well,  indeed,  thank  you.  I  am  willing  to  com- 
mend him,"  Ralph  returns. 

"Ah  —  that  is  delightful  —  and  so,  with  your  permis- 
sion. Captain,  I  will  have  a  word  with  you  in  private  on 
a  very  sentimental  subject  —  in  short,  upon  an  affair 
of  the  heart." 

"With  joy,  Sir  Joseph  —  and,  Boatswain,  in  honour 
of  this  occasion,  see  that  extra  grog  is  served  to  the  crew 
at  seven  bells." 

"I  will  condescend  to  do  so,"  the  Boatswain  assures 
the  Captain,  whereupon  the  Captain,  Sir  Joseph,  and  his 
sisters  and  his  cousins  and  his  aunts  leave  the  deck. 


H.  M.  S.  Pinafore  229 

"You  all  seem  to  think  a  deal  on  yourselves,"  Dick 
Deadeye  growls,  as  he  watches  these  performances. 

"  We  do,  we  do  —  aren't  we  British  sailors?  Doesn't 
the  entire  imiverse  depend  on  us  for  its  existence?  We 
are  fine  fellows  —  Sir  Joseph  has  just  told  us  so." 

"Yes  —  we  may  aspire  to  anything — "  Ralph  inter- 
polates excitedly.  He  had  begun  to  think  that  Josephine 
may  not  be  so  unattainable  after  all. 

''The  devil  you  can,"  responds  Dick.  "Only  I  wouldn't 
let  myself  get  a-going  if  I  were  you.  What  if  ye  got 
going  and  couldn't  stop?"  the  one-eyed  gentleman  in- 
quires solicitously. 

"Oh,  stow  it!"  the  crew  shouts.  "If  we  hadn't  more 
self-respect  'n  you've  got,  we'd  put  out  both  our  eyes,"  the 
estimable  crew  declares,  and  then  retires  to  compliment 
itself,  —  that  is,  all  but  Ralph.  He  leans  upon  the  bul- 
wark and  looks  pensive;  and  at  intervals  he  sighs.  While 
he  is  sighing  his  very  loudest,  Josephine  enters.  Sir  Jo- 
seph has  been  making  love  to  her,  and  she  is  telling  her- 
self and  everybody  who  happens  to  be  leaning  against 
the  bulwark  sighing  pensively,  that  the  Admiral's  atten- 
tions oppress  her.  This  is  Ralph's  opportunity.  He 
immediately  tells  her  that  he  loves  her,  and  she  tells  him 
to  "refrain,  audacious  tar,"  but  he  does  not  refrain  in 
the  least.  In  short  he  decides  upon  the  spot  to  blow  out 
his  brains.  He  pipes  all  hands  on  deck  to  see  him  do  it, 
and  they  come  gladly. 

Now  Ralph  gets  out  his  pistol,  he  sings  a  beautiful 
farewell,  the  Chorus  turns  away  weeping  —  the  sailors 
have  just  cleaned  up  and  they  cannot  bear  the  sight  of 
the  deck  all  spoiled  with  a  British  sailor's  brains  so 
soon  after  scrubbing!  Ralph  lifts  the  pistol,  takes  aim 
—  and  Josephine  rushes  on. 


230  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Oh,  stay  your  hand  —  I  love  you,"  she  cries,  and  in 
less  than  a  minute  everybody  is  dancing  a  hornpipe, 
except  Deadeye.  Deadeye  is  no  socialist.  He  really 
thinks  this  equality  business  which  makes  it  possible  for 
a  common  sailor  to  marry  the  Captain's  daughter  is  most 
reprehensible.  But  nobody  notices  Dick.  Everybody 
is  quite  happy  and  satisfied  now,  and  they  plan  for  the 
wedding.     Dick  plans  for  revenge. 

He  goes  apart  to  think  matters  over.  The  situation 
quite  shocks  his  sense  of  propriety. 

Meantime  the  crew  and  Ralph  and  Josephine  decide 
that: 

This  very  night, 
With  bated  breath 
And  muffled  oar, 
Without  a  light, 
As  still  as  death, 
We'll  steal  ashore. 
A  clergyman 
Shall  rnake  us  one 
At  half-past  ten, 
And  then  we  can 
Return,  for  none 
Can  part  us  then. 

Thus  the  matter  is  disposed  of. 

ACT  II 

It  is  about  half-past  ten,  and  everything  ready  for  the 
elopement.  The  Captain  is  on  deck  playing  a  mando- 
lin while  holding  a  most  beautiful  pose  (because  Little 
Buttercup  is  also  "on  deck,"  and  looking  sentimentally 
at  him).  The  Captain  sings  to  the  moon,  quite  as  if 
there  were  no  one  there  to  admire  him;  because  while 
this  "levelling"  business  is  going  on  in  the  Navy  there 
seems  no  good  reason  why  Buttercup  or  any  other  thrifty 


E.  M.  S.  Pinafore  231 

bum-boat  lady  shouldn't  do  a  little  levelling  herself.  Now 
to  marry  the  Captain  —  but  just  now,  even  though  it  is 
moonlight  and  a  very  propitious  moment,  there  is  other 
work  on  hand  than  marrying  the  Captain.  She  can  do 
that  almost  any  time!  But  at  this  moment  she  has 
some  very  mysterious  and  profound  things  to  say  to  him. 
She  tells  him  that: 

Things  are  seldom  what  they  seem, 
Skim  milk  masquerades  as  cream. 
High-lows  pass  as  patent  leathers, 
Jackdaws  strut  in  peacock  feathers. 

And  the  Captain  acquiesces. 

Black-sheep  dwell  in  every  fold. 
All  that  glitters  is  not  gold. 
Storks  turn  out  to  be  but  logs. 
Bulls  are  but  inflated  frogs. 

And  again  the  Captain  wisely  acquiesces. 

Drops  the  wind  and  stops  the  mill. 
Turbot  is  ambitious  brill. 
Gild  the  farthing  if  you  will, 
Yet  it  is  a  farthing  still. 

And  again  the  Captain  admits  that  this  may  be  true.  It 
is  quite,  quite  painful  if  it  is.  On  the  whole,  the  Captain 
fears  she  has  got  rather  the  best  of  him,  so  he  determines 
to  rally;  he  philosophises  a  little  himself,  when  he  has 
time.     He  has  time  now: 

Tho'  I'm  anything  but  clever, 

he  declares  rythmically,  even  truthfully; 

I  could  talk  like  that  forever, 
Onre  a  cat  was  killed  by  care, 
Only  brave  deserve  the  fair. 


232  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

He  has  her  there,  beyond  doubt,  because  all  she  can  say 
is  "how  true." 
Thus  encouraged  he  continues: 

Wink  is  often  good  as  nod; 
Spoils  the  child,  who  spares  the  rod; 
Thirsty  lambs  run  foxy  dangers, 
Dogs  are  found  in  many  mangers. 

Buttercup  agrees;  —  she  can't  help  it. 

Paw  of  cat  the  chestnut  snatches; 
Worn-out  garments  show  nev/  patches; 
Only  count  the  chick  that  hatches. 
Men  are  grown-up  catchy-catches. 

And  Little  Buttercup  assents  that  this  certainly  is  true. 
And  then,  just  as  she  has  worked  the  Captain  up  into  a  pink 
fit  of  apprehension  she  leaves  him.  While  he  stands 
looking  after  her  and  feeling  unusually  left  alone,  Sir 
Joseph  enters  and  declares  himself  very  much  dis- 
appointed with    Josephine. 

"What,  won't  she  do,  Sir  Joseph?"  the  Captain  asks 
disappointedly. 

"No,  no.  I  don't  think  she  will.  I  have  stooped  as 
much  as  an  Admiral  ought  to,  by  presenting  my  senti- 
ments almost  —  er  —  you  might  say  emotionally,  but 
without  success;  and  now  really  I " 

"Well,  it  must  be  your  rank  which  dazzles  her,"  the 
Captain  suggests,  and  thinks  how  he  would  like  to  take 
a  cat-o'-nine-tails  to  her. 

"She  is  coming  on  deck,"  Sir  Joseph  says,  softly,  "and 
we  might  watch  her  unobserved  a  moment.  Her  actions 
while  she  thinks  herself  alone,  may  reveal  something  to 
us  that  we  should  like  to  know";  and  Sir  Joseph  and 
the  Captain  step  beliind  a  convenient  coil  of  rope  while 
Josephine  walks  about  in  agitation  and  sings  to  herself 
how  reckless  she  is  to  leave  her  luxurious  home  with  her 


E.  M.  S.  Pinafore 


23s 


father,  for  an  attic  that,  likely  as  not,  will  not  even  be 
"finished  off." 

Of  course  Sir  Joseph  and  her  father  do  not  understand 
a  word  of  this,  but  they  understand  that  she  is  disturbed, 
and  Sir  Joseph  steps  up  and  asks  her  outright,  if  his  rank 
overwhelms  her.  He  assures  her  that  it  need  not,  be- 
cause there  is  no  difference  of  rank  to  be  observed  among 
those  of  her  Majesty's  Navy  —  which  he  doesn't  mean 
at  all  except  for  one  occasion  only,  of  course.  At  the 
same  time,  it  is  an  admirable  plea  for  his  rival  Ralph. 

Now  it  is  rapidly  becoming  time  for  the  elopement,  and 
Josephine  pretends  to  accept  Sir  Joseph's  suit  at  last,  in 
order  to  get  rid  of  him  at  half-past  ten.  He  and  Josephine 
go  below  while  Dick  Deadeye  intimates  to  the  Captain 
that  he  wants  a  word  with,  him  aside. 

Then  Dick  Deadeye  gives  the  Captain  his  information, 
thus: 


f=^=F= 


':d2- 


Kind      Captain,  I've      im — por — tant    in — for — ma- 


^ 


m 


tion,     Sing  hey,    the   gal-Iant     Captain  that  you     are! 

tr>  f-  f-  .f  f-f  r-.*'^ 


A-bout       a      cer-tain    in-ti-mate      re — la- 


I 


tion,    Sing    hey,  the  mer-ry     maid-en  and      the      tar! 

Kind  Captain,  your  young  lady  is  a-sighing, 
Sing,  hey,  the  gallant  Captain  that  you  are! 

This  very  night  with  Rackstraw  to  be  flying, 
Sing,  hey,  the  merry  maiden  and  the  tar! 


234  Operas  Etery  Child  Sftould  Knouf 

This  information  certainly  comes  in  the  nick  of  time,  so 
the  Captain  hastily  throws  an  old  cloak  over  him  and 
squats  down  behind  the  deck  furniture  to  await  the  com- 
ing of  the  elopers. 

Presently  they  a)me  up,  Josephine,  followed  by  Little 
Buttercup,  and  all  the  crew  on  "tip-toe  stealing."  Sud- 
denly amid  the  silence,  the  Captain  stamps. 

"Goodness  mel"   all  cr>'.     "  WTiat  was  that?  " 

"Silent  be,'"  sa}-s  Dick.  "It  was  the  cat,"  and  thus 
reassured  they  start  for  the  boat  which  is  to  take  the 
lovers  ashore.  At  this  crisis  the  Captain  throws  oti  the 
cloak  and  creates  a  sensation.  He  is  so  mad  he  swears 
just  as  Sir  Joseph  puts  in  an  appearance. 

"Damme I"  cries  the  Captain. 

"What  was  that  dreadful  language  I  heard  you  use?" 
Sir  Joseph  demands,  highly  scandalized. 

"He  said  'damme,' ''  the  crew  assure  him.  Sir  Joseph 
is  completely  overcome.  To  excuse  liimself  the  Captain 
is  obliged  to  reveal  the  cause  of  his  anger. 

"My  daughter  was  about  to  elope  with  a  common 
sailor,  your  Greatness,"  he  says,  and  at  this  moment 
Josephine  rushes  into  the  arms  of  Ralph.  The  Admiral 
is  again  overcome  ^N^ith  the  impropriety  of  the  situation. 

"^ly  amazement  and  my  surprise,  you  may  learn  from 
the  expression  of  my  eyes,"  the  Admiral  says.  "Has 
this  sailor  dared  to  lift  his  eyes  to  the  Captain's  daughter? 
Incredible.  Put  him  in  chains,  my  boys,"  he  says  to  the 
rest  of  the  crew,  "and  Captain  —  have  you  such  a  thing 
as  a  dungeon  on  board?" 

"Certainly,"  the  Captain  says.    "Hanging  on  the  nail 
to    the    right    of    the    mess-room    door  —  just    as   you 
go  m." 
"Good I   put  him  in  the  ship's  dungeon  at  once  —  just 


n.  M.  S.  Pinafore  235 

as  you  go  in  —  and  see  that  no  telephone  communicates 
with  his  cell,"  whereupon  Ralph  is  lugged  off. 

"  When  the  secret  I  have  to  tell  Ls  known,"  says  Little 
Buttercup,  "his  dungeon  cell  will  h>e  thrown  wide." 

"Then  speak,  in  Jfeaven's  name;  or  I  certainly  shall 
throw  myself  into  the  bilge  water,"  Josephine  says 
dc*sperately. 

"Don't  do  that:  it  snriells  s/)  dreadfully,"   Buttercup 

entreats;  "and  to  prevent    accidents  I  will  tell  what  I 

know:" 

A  many  years  ago, 

\N'hf;n  I  wa.5  younjr  and  chLanning, 
As  hfim't  <A  you  may  knov/, 

I  practiifcfi  baby  farmirj^. 

Tv.o  tender  babes  I  nursed, 

One  -.vas  of  low  condition. 
The  other  upper  crast  — 

A  regular  patrician. 

Oh.  bitter  is  my  cup, 

Hov.ever  could  I  do  it? 
I  mixed  tho:-*  children  up, 

.\nd  not  a  creature  knevif  it. 

In  time  each  little  waif, 

}-or:-/x^k  his  fo.ter-rnother; 
The  -.veil-born  bal>e  v.as  Ralph  — 

\'(jir  Captain  v.as  the  other! 

So,  the  murder  is  out  I  Nobody  outside  of  comic  opera 
can  quite  see  hov,-  this  fact  changes  the  status  of  the  Cap- 

tai.n  and  Ralph  ''the  Captain  not  having  been  a  captain 
'.vhen  in  the  cradle;  but  it  is  quite  enough  to  set  every- 
body by  the  ears.     Josej^hine  screams: 

"Oh,  bliss,  oh,  rapture!"  And  the  Admiral  promptly 
.^ays: 

"Take  her,,  sir,  and  rnir.d  you  treat  her  kindly,"  and 
inimcdiately,  haxing  hxt'l  the  ship's  affairs  so  creditably, 
[;•]]■:  '/j  ].'  '"■:.:.[:■.','  hi:-  sad  ai^d  lonesome  lot. 


236  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

He  declares  that  he  "cannot  live  alone,"  and  his  cousin 
Hebe  assures  him  she  will  never  give  up  the  ship;  or 
rather  that  she  never  will  desert  him,  unless  of  course 
she  should  discover  that  he,  too,  was  changed  in  the 
cradle.  This  comforts  everybody  but  the  changed  Captain. 
Ralph  has,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  become  the  Cap- 
tain of  the  good  ship  Pinafore,  while  the  Captain  has  be- 
come Ralph,  and  Ralph  has  taken  the  Captain's  daughter. 
But  while  he  is  looking  very  downcast.  Buttercup  reminds 
him  that  she  is  there,  and  after  regarding  her  tenderly 
for  a  moment,  he  decides  that  he  has  always  loved  his 
foster  mother  like  a  wife,  and  he  says  so: 


I  shall  marry  with  a  wife, 
In  my  humble  rank  of  life, 
And  you,  my  own,  are  she. 


The  crew  is  delighted.     Everybody  is  happy.     But  the 
Captain  adds,  rashly: 


I  must  wander  to  and  fro, 
But  wherever  I  may  go 

I  shall  never  be  untrue  to  thee! 


Whereupon  the  crew,  which  is  very  punctilious  where  the 
truth  is  concerned,  cries: 

"What,  never?" 

"No,  never!"  the  Captain  declares. 

"  What  —  never?  "  they  persist. 

"Well,  hardly  ever,"  the  Captain  says,  qualifying  the 
statement  satisfactorily  to  his  former  crew.  And  now 
that  all  the  facts  and  amenities  of  life  have  been  duly 
recognized,  the  crew  and  Sir  Joseph,  Ralph  and  the  for- 
mer Captain,  Josephine  and  Buttercup,  all  unite  in  sing- 


H.  M.  S.  Pinafore  237 

ing  frantically  that  they  are  an  Englishman,  for  they 
themselves  have  said  it,  and  it's  greatly  to  their  credit; 
and  while  you  are  laughing  yourself  to  death  at  a  great 
many  ridiculous  things  which  have  taken  place,  the  ciu:- 
tain  comes  down  with  a  rush,  and  you  wish  they  would 
do  it  again. 


VERDI 

GIUSEPPE  VERDI,  born  October  9,  1813,  was  the 
composer  of  twenty-six  operas.  His  musical  his- 
tory may  be  divided  into  three  periods,  and  in  the  last 
he  approached  Wagner  in  greatness,  and  frequently  sur- 
passed him  in  beauty  of  idea. 

Wagner  made  both  the  libretti  and  the  music  of  his 
operas,  while  Verdi  took  his  opera  stories  from  other  au- 
thors. Both  of  these  great  men  were  born  in  the  same 
year. 

Of  Verdi's  early  operas,  "Ernani"  was  probably  the  best; 
then  he  entered  upon  the  second  period  of  his  achieve- 
ment as  a  composer,  and  the  first  work  that  marked  the 
transition  was  "Rigoletto."  The  story  was  adapted  from 
a  drama  of  Hugo's,  "  Le  Roi  s' Amuse,"  and  as  the  profli- 
gate character  of  its  principal  seemed  too  baldly  to  exploit 
the  behaviour  of  Francis  I,  its  production  was  suppressed. 
Then  Verdi  adjusted  the  matter  by  turning  the  charac- 
ter into  the  Duke  of  Mantua,  and  everybody  was  happy. 

The  story  of  the  famous  song  "La  Donna e  Mobile," 
is  as  picturesque  as  Verdi  himself.  While  the  rehearsals 
of  the  opera  were  going  on,  Mirate,  who  sang  the  Duke, 
continued  to  complain  that  he  hadn't  the  MS.  of  one 
of  his  songs.  Verdi  kept  putting  him  off,  till  the  evening 
before  the  orchestral  rehearsal,  when  he  brought  forth 
the  lines;  but  at  the  same  time  he  demanded  a  promise 
that  Mirate  —  nor  indeed  any  of  the  singers  —  should 
not  hum  or  whistle  the  air  till  it  should  be  heard  at  the 

238 


Rigoletto  239 

first  performance.  This  signified  Verdi's  belief  that  the 
gong  would  instantly  become  a  universal  favourite.  The 
faith  was  justified.  The  whole  country  went  "  La  Donna" 
mad. 

"  II  Trovatore  "  came  next  in  this  second  period  of  the 
great  composer's  fame,  and  we  read  that  "Nearly  half 
a  century  has  sped  since  Verdi's  twelfth  opera  was  first 
sung  of  a  certain  winter  evening  in  Rome."  Out  of  the 
chaff  of  Italian  opera  comes  this  wheat,  satisfying  to  the 
generation  of  to-day,  as  it  was  to  that  first  audience  in 
Rome.  We  do  not  even  know  any  longer  why  we  love 
it,  because  in  most  ways  it  \'iolates  new  and  better 
rules  of  musical  art,  but  we  love  it.  Helen  Keyes  has 
written  that  "  the  libretto  of  '  II  Trovatore '  is  based  on  a 
Spanish  drama  written  in  superb  verse  by  a  contemporary 
of  Verdi's,  Antonio  Garcia  Gultierez,"  and  she  relates 
a  romantic  story  in  connection  with  the  Spanish  play; 
the  author  was  but  seventeen  years  old  when  he  wrote 
it  and  had  been  called  to  military  duty,  which  was  dreaded 
by  one  of  his  temperament.  But  his  drama  being  staged 
at  that  moment,  the  authorities  permitted  him  to  fur- 
nish a  substitute  on  the  ground  that  such  genuis  could  best 
serve  its  country  by  remaining  at  home  to  contribute  to 
its  country's  art. 

At  the  time  the  opera  was  produced  in  Rome,  the  Tiber 
had  overflowed  its  banks  and  had  flooded  all  the  streets 
near  the  theatre;  nevertheless  people  were  content  to 
stand  knee-deep  in  water  at  the  box  ofiice,  waiting  their 
turn  for  tickets. 

So  great  had  Verdi  become  in  a  night,  by  this  presenta- 
tion, that  his  rivals  formed  a  cabal  which  prevented  the 
production  of  "  II  Trovatore  "  in  Naples  for  a  time,  but 
in  the  end  the  opera  and  Verdi  prevailed. 


24©  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Now  came  "Traviata,"  —  third  in  that  time  of  change 
in  a  great  master's  art,  and  this  marked  the  limits 
of  the  second  period.  "Aida"  followed.  It  is  well  said 
that  "the  importance  of  Verdi's  'Aida'  as  a  work  of 
musical  art  can  hardly  be  overestimated!"  This  opera 
was  written  at  the  entreaty  of  the  Khedive  Ismail  Pacha. 
He  wished  to  open  the  opera  house  at  Cairo  with  a  great 
opera  that  had  Egypt  for  its  dramatic  theme.  Upon  the 
Khedive's  application  Verdi  named  a  price  which  he  be- 
lieved would  not  be  accepted,  as  he  felt  no  enthusiasm 
about  the  work.  But  his  terms  were  promptly  approved 
and  Mariette  Bey,  a  great  Egyptologist,  was  commissioned 
to  find  the  materials  for  a  proper  story.  Verdi,  in  the 
meantime,  did  become  enthusiastic  over  the  project  and 
went  to  work.  Egyptian  history  held  some  incident 
upon  which  the  story  of  "Aida"  was  finally  built.  First, 
it  was  given  to  Camille  du  Locle,  who  put  the  stoiy  into 
French  prose,  and  in  this  he  was  constantly  advised  by 
Verdi,  at  whose  home  the  work  was  done.  After  that,  the 
French  prose  was  translated  into  Italian  verse  by 
Ghizlandoni,  and  when  all  was  completed,  the  Italian 
verse  was  once  more  translated  back  into  French  for  the 
French  stage. 

Then  the  Khedive  decided  he  would  like  Verdi  to  con- 
duct the  first  performance,  and  he  began  to  negotiate  for 
that.  Verdi  asked  twenty  thousand  dollars  for  writing 
the  opera,  and  thirty  thousand  in  case  he  went  to  Eg^pt. 
This  was  agreed,  but  when  the  time  came  to  go,  Verdi 
backed  out;  he  was  overcome  with  fear  of  seasickness 
and  wouldn't  go  at  any  price.  Then  the  scenery  was 
painted  in  Paris,  and  when  all  was  ready  —  lo !  the  scenery 
was  a  prisoner  because  the  war  had  broken  out  in  France ! 
Everything  had  to  wait  a  year,  and  during  that  time  Verdi 


Rigoletto  241 

wrote  and  rewrote,  making  his  opera  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  in  the  world.  Finally  ''Aida"  was  produced, 
and  the  story  of  that  night  as  told  by  the  Italian  critic 
Filippi  is  not  out  of  place  here,  since  the  night  is  historic 
in  opera  "first  nights:" 

"The  Arabians,  even  the  rich,  do  not  love  our  shows; 
they  prefer  the  mewings  of  their  tunes,  the  monotonous 
beatings  of  their  drums,  to  all  the  melodies  of  the  past, 
present,  and  future.  It  is  a  true  miracle  to  see  a  turban 
in  a  theatre  of  Cairo.  Sunday  evening  the  opera  house 
was  crowded  before  the  curtain  rose.  Many  of  the 
boxes  were  filled  with  women,  who  neither  chatted  nor 
rustled  their  robes.  There  was  beauty  and  there  was 
intelligence  especially  among  the  Greeks  and  the  strangers 
of  rank  who  abound  in  Cairo.  For  truth's  sake  I  must 
add  that,  by  the  side  of  the  most  beautiful  and  richly 
dressed,  were  Coptic  and  Jewish  faces,  with  strange  head- 
dresses, impossible  costumes,  a  howUng  of  colours,  —  no 
one  could  deliberately  have  invented  worse.  The  women 
of  the  harem  could  not  be  seen.  They  were  in  the  first 
three  boxes  on  the  right,  in  the  second  gallery.  Thick 
white  muslin  hid  their  faces  from  prying  glances." 

This  gives  a  striking  picture  of  that  extraordinary 
"first  night." 

Verdi  was  born  at  a  time  of  turmoil  and  political  troub- 
les, and  his  mother  was  one  of  the  many  women  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Ronocole  (where  he  was  born)  who  took 
refuge  in  the  church  when  soldiery  invaded  the  village. 
There,  near  the  Virgin,  many  of  the  women  had  thought 
themselves  safe,  but  the  men  burst  in,  and  a  general 
massacre  took  place.  Verdi's  mother  fled  with  her 
little  son  to  the  belfry  and  this  alone  saved  to  the 
world  a  wonderful  genius. 


242  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

When  Verdi  was  ten  years  old  he  was  apprenticed  to  a 
grocer  in  Buseto,  but  he  was  a  musical  grocer,  and  the 
musical  atmosphere,  which  was  life  to  Verdi,  surrounded 
him.  He  had  a  passion  for  leaving  in  the  midst  of  his 
grocery  business  to  sit  at  the  spinet  and  hunt  out  new 
harmonious  combinations:  and  when  one  of  his  new-made 
chords  was  lost  he  would  fly  into  a  terrible  rage,  al- 
though as  a  general  rule  he  was  a  peaceable  and  kindly 
little  chap.  On  one  such  occasion  he  became  so 
enraged  that  he  took  a  hammer  to  the  instrument  —  an 
event  coincident  with  a  thrashing  his  father  gave  him. 

There  is  no  end  of  incident  connected  with  this  gentle 
and  kindly  soul,  who,  unlike  so  many  of  his  fellow  geniuses, 
reflected  in  his  life  the  beauty  of  his  art. 

RIGOLETTO 

aiARACTERS  OF  THE  OPERA,  WITH  THE  ORIGINAL  CAST  AS  PRESENTED 
AT  THE   FIRST  PERFORMANCE 

The  Duke  of  Mantua Signori  Mirate 

Rigoletto Varasi 

Sparafucile Ponz 

Count  Monterone Damini 

Marullo Kunerth 

Matteo  Borsa Zuliani 

Count  Ceprano   ...,..■ Bellini 

Usher  of  the  Court Rizzi 

Gilda Signore  Teresa  Brambilla 

^Sladdalena Casaloni 

Giovanna Saini 

Countess  Ceprano MorselH 

Page Modes  Lovati 

The  story  belongs  to  the  sixteenth  century,  in  the  city  of  Mantua  and 
its  environs. 

Composer:  Giuseppe  Verdi.     Author:  Francesco  Maria  Piave. 

First  sung  in  Venice,  Gran  Teatro  la  Fenice.    March  ii,  1851. 

ACT  r 

Ddkes  and  duchesses,  pages  and  courtiers,  dancing 
and  laughter:  these  things  all   happening  to  music  and 


Rigoletto  243 

glowing  lights,  in  the  city  of  Mantua  four  hundred  years 
ago!  —  that  is  "Rigoletto." 

There  lived,  long  ago,  in  Mantua,  the  Duke  and  his 
suite,  and  the  only  member  of  his  household  who  dared 
do  as  he  pleased  was  the  Duke  of  Mantua's  jester,  Rigo- 
letto. The  more  deformed  a  jester  happened  to  be,  the 
more  he  was  valued  in  his  profession,  and  Rigoletto  was 
a  very  ugly  little  man,  and  as  vindictive  and  wicked  as 
he  was  ill-favoured  in  appearance.  The  only  thing  he 
truly  loved  was  his  daughter,  Gilda.  As  for  the  Duke  of 
Mantua,  he  loved  for  the  time  being  almost  any  pretty 
woman  who  came  his  way. 

On  the  night  of  a  great  ball  at  the  Duke's  palace  he  was 
thinking  of  his  latest  love,  Gilda,  the  jester's  daughter. 
The  Duke  usually  confided  his  affairs  to  his  servant  Borsa, 
and  the  ball  had  no  sooner  begun  than  he  began  to  speak 
with  Borsa  of  his  newest  escapade.  He  declared  that  he 
had  followed  Gilda  to  the  chapel  where  she  went  each 
day,  and  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  speak  with  her 
the  next  time  he  saw  her. 

"Where  does  this  pretty  girl  live,  your  Highness?  " 

"In  an  obscure  and  distant  street  where  I  have  fol- 
lowed her  each  day.  At  night  a  queer-looking  fellow  is 
admitted,  thus  I  am  sure  she  has  a  lover.  By  the  way, 
whom  do  you  think  that  fellow  to  be?"  the  Duke  asked 
with  a  laugh. 

"Pray  tell  me." 

"None  other  than  Rigoletto!"  the  Duke  cried, 
laughing  more  boisterously.  "What  do  you  think  of 
that  —  the  little  hunchback!" 

"And  does  he  know  that  you  have  followed  this  sweet- 
heart of  his?" 

"Not  he.     But  look  at  all  of  these  beautiful  women," 


244  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

he  exclaimed  with  delight  as  the  company  began  to  as- 
semble from  another  room.  "Alas,  a  man  hardly  knows 
whom  to  love  among  so  many  beauties,"  he  sighed  heavi- 
ly. "But  after  all,  I  think  it  must  be  the  Countess 
Ceprano!  do  you  see  her?    Most  beautiful ! " 

"Just  the  same  I  advise  you  not  to  let  the  Count 
Ceprano  hear  you!"  Borsa  advised. 


Ah,  in  my  heart,  all  are  equally  cherished, 
Every  thought  of  exclusion  within  me  I  smother, 
None  is  dearer  to  me  than  another, 
In  their  turn,  I  for  each  one  would  die. 


the  Duke  sang  gaily,  giving  his  friend  and  servant  the 
wink. 

Now,  Rigoletto  was  in  the  habit  of  assisting  the  Duke 
in  all  his  wrongdoing,  and  on  this  night  the  Dulce  con- 
fided to  him  his  new  enchantment  —  not  Gilda,  but  the 
Countess  Ceprano. 

"The  Countess  has  a  jealous  husband,  Rigoletto;  pray 
what  do  you  advise?  " 

"Why,  that  you  carry  her  oflf,  to  be  sure;  or  else  get 
rid  of  her  husband  the  Count;  maybe  that  would  be 
the  easiest  way. " 

The  Duke  was  wUd  enough  to  undertake  almost  any- 
thing, and  so  with  the  help  of  Rigoletto  he  was  ready  to 
undertake  that.  Hence,  he  made  desperate  love  to  the 
Countess  all  the  evening,  while  the  Count  became  more 
and  more  angry,  and  followed  the  pair  continually 
about. 

Even  the  courtiers  were  a  good  deal  disgusted  with  the 
Duke's  conduct,  and  they  especially  hated  Rigoletto, 
who  they  thought  was  the  real  author  of  most  of  the 
Duke's  misconduct. 


Rigoletto  245 

"I  don't  know  what  we  are  coming  to,"  Marullo 
exclaimed. 

Yes,  and  'tis  here  but  as  elsewhere! 
'Tis  gambling  and  feasting,  duelling  and  dancing; 
And  lovemaking  always,  wherever  he  goes. 
To-day  he's  for  pastime,  besieging  the  countess, 
While  we  watch  the  husband  and  laugh  at  his  woes! 

This  conditions  of  things  exactly  suited  the  malevolent 
dwarf,  however. 

After  the  Count  had  followed  the  Duke  and  Countess 
about  the  palace  half  the  night,  the  Duke  came  into  the 
room  in  a  rage. 

"What  am  I  to  do  with  this  Count?  I'd  like  to  fight 
him  and  kill  him.  He  torments  me  to  death.  If  you 
don't  think  out  a  way  to  rid  me  of  him  while  I  am  making 
love  to  the  Countess,  I'll  get  some  other  fellow  to  make 
life  gay  for  me,  Rigoletto,"  he  cried  to  the  dwarf. 

"Well,  have  I  not  told  you  —  run  off  with  her." 

"Oh,  yes,  that's  easy  enough  to  say." 

"It's  easy  enough  to  do.     Try  it  to-night!" 

"But  vv'hat  about  her  husband?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  —  let  him  be  arrested." 

"No,  no,  that  won't  do;  he's  of  noble  birth.  You  are 
going  too  far." 

"All  right  I  If  he  is  too  good  to  be  arrested,  then  exile 
him,"  the  dwarf  obligingly  arranges,  showing  thereby 
his  notion  of  the  fitness  of  things. 

"No I  that  would  hardly  do,  either,"  the  Duke 
exclaimed  impatiently. 

"Well,  cut  off  his  head,  then."  Rigoletto  thought 
that  should  be  an  ending  dignified  enough  for  any  one. 
Meantime  Ceprano  overheard  that  ])leasing  conversation. 

"They  are  black-hearted  villains,"  he  muttered  aside. 


246  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Cut  off  that  head  so  unbending,"  the  Duke  exclaimed, 
looking  at  Ceprano,  who  was  really  a  noble-appearing 
aristocrat. 

"Aye  —  we  have  discovered  its  use.  Cut  it  off;  that 
will  make  it  pliant,"  the  charming  dwarf  said,  facetiously; 
and  that  being  a  bit  too  much  for  any  noble  to  put  up 
with,  the  Count  drew  his  sword. 

"Enough!  you  ribald  hunchback,"  he  cried;  at  which 
the  Duke  became  uneasy. 

"Yes,  come  here,  you  jesting  fool!"  he  called  to  Rigo- 
letto,  trying  to  turn  the  matter  off.  "We've  had  enough 
of  your  jests.  We  are  tired  of  you.  I  advise  you  not 
to  impose  too  much  on  our  good  humour,  because  some 
of  this  maliciousness  may  come  back  at  you." 

But  the  Count  was  not  so  easily  to  be  pacified.  He 
turned  to  the  other  nobles  and  asked  them  to  help  him 
revenge  himself;  but  the  Duke  of  Mantua  was  very 
powerful,  and  few  were  willing  to  displease  him,  however 
much  they  disapproved  of  his  conduct. 

"What  can  we  do?"  several  of  them  murmured,  and 
meanwhile  the  dwarf  was  trying  aside  to  secure  help  in 
carrying  off  the  Countess  for  the  Duke.  That  was  really 
too  audacious,  and  all  of  the  nobles  finally  sided  with  the 
Count,  privately  agreeing  to  help  him  ruin  the  dwarf, 
since  they  dared  not  directly  oppose  the  Duke. 

While  the  excitement  of  this  general  quarrel  was  at 
its  height,  the  dancers  all  poured  in  from  the  other  room 
and  began  to  sing  gaily  of  life's  pleasures,  which  were 
about  all  that  made  life  worth  living.  In  the  very  midst 
of  this  revelry  some  one  without  made  a  great  noise  and 
demanded  instant  admittance.  The  Duke  recognized 
the  voice  of  Monterone,  a  powerful  noble,  whom  he  had 
wronged,  and  cried  out  angrily: 


Rigoletto  247 

"He  shall  not  come  in."  As  a  fact,  Rigoletto  had 
carried  off  Monterone's  daughter  for  the  Duke  but  a 
little  time  before. 

"Make  way  there,"  the  old  Count  insisted,  more  en- 
raged than  ever,  and  forcing  his  way  past  the  attendants, 
he  entered  the  room.  He  was  an  old  and  proud  man  and 
the  nobles  present  were  bound  to  give  heed  to  him. 

"Yes,  Sir  Duke,  it  is  I.  You  know  my  voice !  I  would 
it  were  as  loud  as  thunder!"  he  cried. 

"Ah!  I  will  deign  to  give  you  audience,"  Rigoletto 
spoke  up,  mimicking  the  Duke's  voice  in  a  manner  insult- 
ing to  Monterone. 

He  continued  to  speak  insultingly  to  the  old  man,  using 
the  Duke's  manner  and  voice,  till  the  Count  cried  out 
against  the  shameful  action. 

"Is  this  thy  justice?  Thou  darest  deride  me?  Then 
no  place  shall  hide  thee  from  my  curse.  I  will  pursue 
thee  as  long  as  I  live,  day  and  night.  I  will  recall  to  you 
how  you  have  taken  my  daughter  away  from  me,  and 
have  disgraced  us.  You  may  cut  off  my  head,  but  still 
I'll  appear  to  thee  and  fill  thee  with  fear.  And  thou, 
thou  viper,"  he  cried  to  Rigoletto,  "be  thou  accursed!" 

"Don't  curse  me,"  the  dwarf  exclaimed,  turning  pale. 
He  was  superstitious,  and  the  fearful  words  of  the 
wronged  father  sounded  ominous.  The  scene  became 
terrifying  to  the  whole  company  and  they  cried  out. 

"Away  with  him,"  the  Duke  demanded,  angrily.  "Am 
I  to  have  the  gaiety  of  my  guests  spoiled  because  of  this 
old  dotard?  Take  him  to  prison."  The  attendants 
rushed  in  and  seized  Monterone,  while  he  turned  again 
upon  the  dwarf  and  cursed  him  roundly.  Not  only  did 
the  dwarf  shrink  back,  the  whole  company  became 
affrighted,  while  the  old  m.an  was  silenced  at  last  by 


248  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

the  guards,  and  Rigoletto  hurried,  panic-stricken,  from 
the  palace. 

Scene  II 

As  Rigoletto  hastened  away  from  the  palace  with  the 
ciu-ses  ringing  in  his  ears  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  the 
terror  they  inspired;  probably  because  he  was  so  bad 
a  man  and  knew  that  he  deserved  them.  He  was  in  a 
street  very  near  to  his  home,  when  he  was  stopped  by  a 
forbidding-looking  fellow. 

"It  was  a  father's  curse  he  laid  upon  me,"  Rigoletto 
was  muttering,  thinking  of  his  own  daughter,  the  only 
thing  in  the  world  that  he  loved. 

"Ho,  there,"  said  the  fellow  in  the  road,  calling  softly. 

"Oh,  don't  stop  me,"  Rigoletto  answered  with  impa- 
tience. "  I  have  nothing  worth  getting."  He  lived  in  a 
time  of  bandits  and  highwaymen,  and,  since  he  had 
nothing  to  be  robbed  of,  was  not  much  frightened. 
He  was  far  more  afraid  of  the  Count's  curse. 

"No  matter,  good  sir;  that  is  not  exactly  what  I  stopped 
you  for.     You  look  to  me  like  a  man  who  might  have 
enemies;  or  who  might  wish  to  employ  me." 

"What  for,  pray?" 

Sparafucile  laughed  shortly.  "Well,  you  are  not  a 
very  benevolent-looking  chap,  and  I'd  murder  my 
brother  for  money,"  he  whispered,  grinning  at  the  crooked, 
odious-looking  Rigoletto. 

Rigoletto  eyed  him.  The  villain  had  spoken  almost 
as  if  he  knew  the  dwarf's  fear. 

"I  believe  you,"  he  muttered,  looking  steadily  at  the 
cut-throat.  "You  look  it,  every  inch.  What  do  you 
charge  to  kill  a  noble?  " 

"More  than  I  charge  for  a  churl,  by  double." 


Rigoletto  249 

"And  how  do  you  want  your  money?" 

"Half  before  I  do  the  deed,  and  the  other  half  when  he 
is  dead." 

"You're  a  demon,"  Rigoletto  murmured;  and  certainly 
he  himself  was  bad  enough  to  be  able  to  judge  of  a  rogue 
when  he  saw  one.  "Aren't  you  afraid  of  being  dis- 
covered?" 

"No,  when  it  is  dangerous  to  kill  in  the  city,  I  do  it  in 
my  own  house.  There  in  the  gloom  of  night,  far  away 
from  help,  it  is  easy  enough.     No  one  ever  finds  it  out." 

"You  are  the  wdckedest  man  I  know  —  not  excepting 
myself,"  said  Rigoletto,  contemplating  the  wretch  with 
curiosity.     "Tell  me  how  you  lure  people  to  your  home?" 

"Easy  enough.  I  have  a  handsome  sister  there.  No- 
body ever  thinks  of  resisting  her.  She  gets  them  to 
come;  I  do  the  rest." 

"I  follow  you." 

"Then  not  a  sound  is  heard.  The  knife  is  a  silent 
fellow.  Now  what  do  you  think  ?  —  that  I  can  serve 
you?" 

"No.  I  don't  like  the  notion."  Rigoletto  was  not 
half  as  daring  of  wicked  deeds  as  he  had  been  an  hour 
before;  the  curse  was  still  ringing  in  his  ears. 

"You  have  enemies,  I  judge,"  Sparafucile  urged, 
shrewdly.     "You'll  regret  not  accepting  my  services." 

"Nay.  Be  off.  No,  stay  a  moment!  If  I  ever  should 
need  thee,  where  could  I  address   thee?" 

"You  won't  have  to  address  me;  you'll  find  me  here 
each  night." 

"Well,  be  off,  be  off!"  As  a  fact  Rigoletto  didn't 
much  care  to  be  seen  with  one  of  his  own  kind.  But  he 
looked  after  the  coupe-jarrct  uneasily.  "After  all,  we 
are  equals,  that  fellow  and  I.     He  stabs  in  the  dark  —  and 


250  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

so  do  I.  I  with  my  malicious  tongue,  he  with  his  knife. 
Bah!  I  am  all  undone.  I  hear  that  old  man's  curse  yet. 
How  I  hate  them,  all  those  nobles  who  hire  me  to  laugh  for 
them  and  to  make  them  laugh!  I  haven't  even  a  right 
to  know  sadness.  It  is  my  business  in  life,  because  I  am 
born  crooked,  to  make  sport  for  these  rats  of  fellows  who 
are  no  better  than  I  am.  I  am  hired  to  bear  the  burden 
of  their  crimes.  I  wish  they  all  had  but  one  neck;  I'd 
strangle  them  with  one  hand."  Overwhelmed  with  the 
exciting  scenes  of  the  night,  he  turned  toward  the  gate  in 
his  garden  wall.  As  he  opened  it,  Gilda  ran  out  gaily 
to  meet  him.  To  her  he  was  only  the  loving  and  ten- 
der father.  She  waited  for  his  coming  all  day,  and  had 
no  pleasure  till  she  saw  him. 

"Oh,  in  this  abode,  my  nature  changes,"  the  crooked 
little  man  murmured  as  he  folded  his  daughter  in  his  arms. 

"Near  thee,  my  daughter,  I  find  all  the  joy  on  earth 
that  is  left  me,"  he  said,  trying  to  control  his  emotion. 

"You  love  me,  father?" 

"Aye  ! —  thou  art  my  only  comfort." 

"Father,  there  is  often  something  mysterious  in  thy 
actions.  You  have  never  told  me  of  my  mother.  Who 
was  my  mother,  dear  father?  " 


Andante      ^^ 
con  express.  _^ 

•r-f-^ 

•  .  -r'  f-  -*- 

-^-Hnr?^ — \ — 

^         ^      P^ 

— ^ — 

i^         V 1— 

— s — 

■Kl^Wjy       A 

"^ 

^^77     4- 

■| 

Ah 

why      re — call 

in            mis — e — ry, 

t-7-r-.- • 

-^  •   "?■     . 

-,-0^Ji  »  » 

^^=^- 

:^-M- 

^ — 

ir=-^r^->-r- 

_-j>_ 

What      temp — ests  dread  have     mo ved  me? 


Rigoletto  251 


m±i 


±± 


An         an — gel  once      com — pan— ion'd  me,         an 

J^dim. 


/  T. — ; * * P h f^ — ^ 1 T ^ y  ■■ 


an gel    in    pi — ty  lov'd    me. 

he  sang. 

"Hideous,  an  outcast,  penniless,  she  blessed  my  lonely 
years.  Ah!  I  lost  her,  I  lost  her.  Death  wafted  her 
soul  to  heaven!  —  But  thou  art  left  me,"  he  said  ten- 
derly, beginning  to  weep. 

"There,  father,  say  no  more.  My  questions  have 
made  thee  sad.  I  shall  always  be  with  thee  to  make 
thee  happy.  But,  father,  I  do  not  know  that  you  are 
what  you  tell  me.  What  is  your  real  name?  Is  it  Rigo- 
letto?" 

"No  matter,  child,  do  not  question.  I  am  feared  and 
hated  by  my  enemies.     Let  that  suffice." 

"But  ever  since  we  came  to  this  place  three  months 
ago,  you  have  forbidden  me  to  go  abroad.  Let  me  go 
into  the  city,  father,  and  see  the  sights." 

"Never!  You  must  not  ask  it."  He  was  frightened 
at  the  very  thought.  If  men  like  the  Duke,  his  master, 
should  see  such  a  beautiful  girl  as  Gilda,  they  would 
surely  rob  him  of  her.  At  that  moment  the  nurse,  Gio- 
vanna,  came  from  the  house  and  Rigoletto  asked  her  if 
the  garden  gate  was  ever  left  open  while  he  was  away. 
The  woman  told  him  falsely  that  the  gate  was  always 
closed. 

"Ah,  Giovanna,  I  pray  you  watch  over  my  daughter 


252  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

when  I  am  away,"  he  cried,  and  turned  suddenly  toward 
the  gate  upon  hearing  a  noise.  "Some  one  is  without 
there,  now!"  he  cried,  running  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound.  He  threw  the  gate  wide,  but  saw  no  one,  because 
the  Duke  —  who  it  was  —  had  stepped  aside  into  the 
shadow,  and  then,  while  Rigoletto  was  without,  looking 
up  the  road,  he  slipped  within  and  hid  behind  a  tree, 
throwing  a  purse  to  Giovanna  to  bribe  her  to  silence. 
Giovanna  snatched  it  and  hid  it  in  the  folds  of  her  gown, 
showing  plainly  that  she  was  not  to  be  trusted,  as  Rigo- 
letto trusted  her,  with  his  precious  daughter.  There  was 
the  man  whom  Rigoletto  had  most  cause  to  fear,  who 
ran  off  with  every  pretty  girl  he  saw,  and  he  had  now 
found  the  prettiest  of  them  all  in  the  dwarf's  daughter. 

"Have  you  noticed  any  one  following  Gilda?"  the 
dwarf  asked,  returning  to  the  garden  and  fastening  the 
gate  behind  him.  "If  harm  should  come  to  my  daugh- 
ter it  would  surely  kill  me,"  he  sobbed,  taking  Gilda  in  his 
arms.  At  that  the  Duke,  listening  behind  the  tree,  was 
amazed.  So!  Gilda  was  no  sweetheart  of  his  jester; 
but  was  his  daughter  instead! 

"Now,"  said  Rigoletto,  "  I  must  be  off,  but  I  caution 
you  once  more;  let  no  one  in." 

"What,  not  even  the  great  Duke  if  he  should  come 
to  inquire  for  you?  " 

"  The  Duke  least  of  all,"  the  dwarf  answered  in  a  new 
panic.     And  kissing  Gilda  he  went  out  again. 

No  sooner  had  he  gone  than  Gilda  turned  tearfully  to 
her  nurse. 

"Giovanna,  my  heart  feels  guilty." 

"What  hast  thou  done?"  the  nurse  asked,  indiffer- 
ently, remembering  the  purse  of  the  Duke  which  she 
carried  in  her  bosom. 


Rigoletto  253 

"Ne'er  told  my  father  of  the  youth  whom  I  have  learned 
to  love  and  who  has  followed  me." 

"Why  should  he  know  it?  Would  he  not  prevent  it? 
If  you  wish  that " 

"Nay,  nay,"  Gilda  replied,  fearfully;  and  in  her  lone- 
liness and  distress  she  confided  toGiovanna  how  much 
she  loved  the  Duke.  Mantua,  behind  the  tree,  heard  all, 
and,  motioning  Giovanna  to  go  away,  he  came  toward 
Gilda.  Giovanna  went  at  once  into  the  house,  but  Gilda 
cried  to  her  to  come  back,  as  the  sudden  appearance  of 
the  Duke  frightened  her,  after  the  scene  she  had  just  had 
with  her  father. 

Then  while  the  Duke  was  giving  her  a  false  name,  and 
trying  to  reassure  her,  they  heard  voices  outside  the 
garden  wall.  The  Duke  recognized  the  voice  of  Borsa 
and  Ceprano.  They  seemed  to  be  searching  for  some 
house,  and  again,  quite  terror-stricken,  Gilda  started  to 
rush  within. 

Giovanna  met  her.  "I  am  afraid  it  is  your  father  re- 
turned. The  young  gentleman  must  hasten  away,"  she 
whispered  under  her  breath,  and  immediately  the  Duke 
went  out  by  another  way,  through  the  house.  Then 
Gilda  watched  off,  down  the  road,  and  while  she  was 
watching,  Borsa,  Ceprano,  and  other  dare-devils  of  the 
Duke's  court  stole  into  the  garden.  Ceprano,  who  had 
heard  that  Gilda  was  some  one  beloved  by  Rigoletto, 
although  it  was  not  known  that  she  was  his  daughter, 
meant  to  carry  Gilda  off,  since  he  owed  Rigoletto  a  grudge. 
Having  seen  the  Duke  disappear,  Gilda  had  gone  within 
again,  and  as  the  kidnappers  were  about  to  enter,  they 
heard  Rigoletto  coming. 

It  was  then  their  opportunity  to  plan  a  great  and 
tragic  joke  upon  the  wretched  dwarf. 


254  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Listen  to  this!"  Borsa  whispered.  "Let  us  tell  him 
we  are  here  to  carry  off  the  Countess  Ceprano,  who  has 
fled  here  for  safety  from  us.  Then  when  we  have  blind- 
folded him,  we  will  make  him  help  to  carry  off  liis  own 
sweetheart."  Just  as  that  infamous  plan  was  formed, 
in  came  Rigoletto.  He  ran  against  one  of  tlie  men  in  the 
dark. 

"What's  this?"  he  cried. 

"H'st!    Be  silent!" 

"Who  spoke?"  he  unconsciously  lowered  his  voice. 

"Marullo,  you  idiot." 

"The  darkness  blinds  me,  and  I  cannot  see  you." 

"H'st,  Rigoletto!  We're  for  an  adventure.  We  are 
going  to  carry  off  the  Countess  Ceprano:  she  has  fled 
here  from  us.  We  had  the  Duke's  key  to  get  into  her 
place."  He  holds  out  the  key  which  the  dwarf  felt  in 
the  darkness  and  found  the  Duke's  crest  upon  it. 

"Her  palace  is  on  the  other  side " 

"She  fled  here,  we  tell  thee.  We  are  stealing  her  for 
the  Duke.  Put  on  this  mask,  hurry!"  Marullo  tied 
on  a  mask  and  put  the  jester  at  the  foot  of  a  ladder  which 
they  had  run  up  against  the  terrace. 

"Now  hold  the  ladder  till  one  of  us  gets  over  and  un- 
fastens the  door."  Rigoletto,  somewhat  dazed,  did  me- 
chanically what  he  was  told,  and  the  men  entered  the 
house. 

"Ah,  I  shall  have  a  fine  revenge  on  that  scamp,"  Ce- 
prano muttered,  looking  toward  Rigoletto  through  the 
dark. 

''Sh!  Be  silent,"  Borsa  whispered.  "They  will  bring 
the  girl  out  muffled  so  he  can't  hear  her  scream.  Rigo- 
letto will  never  hear  a  sound.  No  joke  of  his  ever  matched 
the  one  we  are  preparing  for  him."     At  that  m.oment, 


Rigoletto  255 

Gilda  was  brought  out,  her  mouth  tied  with  her  scarf; 
but  as  they  were  bearing  her  away,  she  got  the  scarf 
loose  and  uttered  a  piercing  shriek,  and  the  scarf  fell 
near  Rigoletto. 

"Father,  help,  help  I"  she  cried,  but  the  voice  seemed 
to  come  from  afar  off.  Rigoletto  only  just  heard.  He 
could  not  collect  his  senses. 

"Here,  what  does  this  mean?  Aren't  you  nearly 
through?"  he  cried,  angrily  tearing  off  the  mask  and  also 
the  handkerchief  that  bound  his  ears.  "What  cry  was 
that?  I  thought  I  heard  a  cry ! "  He  was  becoming  mad 
with  fear.     All  the  conditions  seemed  so  strange. 

"Hello  there!"  But  no  one  answered;  all  the  men 
were  gone.  Then  he  snatched  a  lantern  one  of  the  men 
had  left  near,  and  suddenly  he  saw  Gilda's  scarf.  He 
stared  at  it,  rushed  like  a  madman  into  the  house  and 
dragged  out  the  nurse,  tried  to  shriek  "Gilda,"  but  over- 
come with  horror  he  fell  senselesss. 

ACT   II 

Now  if  the  Duke  of  Mantua  was  ever  angry  in  his  life, 
he  was  angry  when  the  curtain  rose  on  the  second  act. 
There  he  was,  pacing  about  a  sumptuous  apartment, 
fuming  with  rage. 

"If  ever  I  loved  any  one  in  my  life,  it  was  that  girl!" 
he  cried.  "And.  heaven  knows  what  can  have  become 
of  her."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Duke  had  some  mis- 
giving after  he  had  left  Gilda  in  the  garden,  and,  later, 
he  had  returned.  But  he  had  found  the  place  deserted 
and  could  get  no  news  of  Iier  from  that  hour. 

"Oh,  but  I  would  defend  thee,  if  thou  art  in  trouble," 
he  cried;  and  in  the  midst  of  his  excitement  Marullo, 


256  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Borsa,  and  Ceprano  and  other  courtiers  rushed  into  the 
room.  All  were  fairly  bursting  with  news  of  the  escapade 
of  the  night  before. 

"Oh,  Duke!  Oh,  Lord!  What  do  you  think?  We 
have  carried  off  the  jester's  sweetheart!" 

"What?"  The i Duke  stared  and  then  gave  a  great 
cry.     "Speak,  speak.     What  have  you  done?" 

"  The  jester's  sweetheart." 

"Where  is  she?"  the  Duke  asked,  hardly  daring  to 
trust  his  voice. 

"Here,  in  this  house." 

"What  do  you  say?" 

"Yes,  we  brought  her  here." 

"Oh,  joy!"  the  Duke  exclaimed;  then  aside:  "She 
is  near  me,"  and  forgetting  all  about  his  friends  he  went 
out  excitedly. 

"Why  did  he  turn  away  from  us?"  the  men  asked  each 
other.  "He  has  enjoyed  our  adventures  before  now." 
They  were  a  little  uneasy  and  were  conferring  together 
when  Rigoletto  came  in.  He  was  a  pitiful-looking  fellow, 
worn  with  a  night  of  horror  and  weeping,  but  he  came 
singing: 

"La,  la,  la,  la,  la," — pretending  not  to  be  agitated. 
"Pray  what  is  the  news?"  he  asked  off-hand,  seeking  not 
to  betray  his  agony  of  mind,  till  he  should  have  learned 
something  about  his  daughter. 

"Pleasant  morning,  Rigoletto!"  the  men  answered, 
mockingly,  and  glancing  with  grins  at  each  other.  "Pray. 
what  is  the  news?"  Rigoletto,  half  dead  with  anxiety, 
moved  about  the  room  looking  for  some  sign  of  Gilda. 

"Lord!  See  him  fishing  about  in  every  corner  for  her? 
He  thinks  to  find  her  under  the  table,"  one  of  them  whis- 
pered, and  the  men  burst  out  laughing. 


Rigoletto  257 

Then  Rigoletto  discovered  a  handkerchief  on  the  floor 
and  snatched  it,  hoping  to  find  a  clue,  but  it  was  not  hers. 
Just  then  a  page  ran  in  to  say  that  the  Duchess  was 
asking  for  the  Duke. 

"He  is  still  in  bed,"  one  of  the  men  answered,  watching 
the  efifect  of  that  upon  Rigoletto,  who  was  listening  to 
every  word. 

"He  cannot  be,"  the  page  persisted.  "Didn't  he  just 
pass  me  on  the  stairs?" 

i     "All  right,  then!    He  has  gone  a-hunting,"  and  they 
laughed. 

"With  no  escort?  Hardly.  Come,  don't  think  me  a 
fool.  Where's  the  Duke?  The  Duchess  wishes  to  speak 
with  him." 

"It  is  you  who  are  a  dull  fool,"  the  men  exclaimed,  seem- 
ing to  carry  on  the  conversation  aside,  but  taking  good 
care  that  Rigoletto  should  hear.  "The  Duke  cannot  be 
disturbed  —  do  you  understand?     He  is  with  a  lady." 

"Ah!  Villains!"  Rigoletto  shrieked,  turning  upon 
them  like  a  tiger.  "My  daughter!  You  have  my 
daughter  —  here  in  this  palace.  Give  me  my  daughter!" 
The  men  all  rushed  after  him  as  he  made  for  the  door. 

"Your  daughter?  My  God!  Your  daughter?" 
They  were  horrified  at  their  own  doings,  hearing  it  was 
Rigoletto's  daughter. 

"  Stand  back !  Don't  think  to  keep  me  from  my  daugh- 
ter."  As  they  still  held  him  tight,  hardly  knowing  what 
then  to  do,  he  sank  down  in  despair.  He  entreated 
help  of  the  different  courtiers  whom  he  had  so  often  and 
maliciously  misused.     Then  he  wept. 

"Oh,  have  pity  on  me,  my  lords!  Let  me  go  to  my 
daughter."  While  everybody  was  hesitating  in  con- 
sternation, Gilda,  having  got  free,  rushed  from  the  next 


258  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

room,  and  into  his  arms.  She  screamed  hysterically  that 
she  had  been  carried  off  by  the  Duke.  Rigoletto  nearly 
foamed  at  the  mouth  with  rage,  and  at  last  the  men 
became  truly  afraid  of  him. 

"Go,  all  of  you!"  he  stammered,  no  longer  able  to 
speak  plainly.  "And  if  the  Duke  comes  into  this  room 
I  will  kill  him."  So  the  courtiers  withdrew.  The  palace 
was  in  an  uproar. 

"It  is  a  mistake  to  jest  with  a  madman,"  Marullo 
whispered  to  Borsa  as  they  went  out.  Father  and  daugh- 
ter were  left  alone.  After  looking  at  Gilda  a  moment, 
trying  to  recover  himself,  Rigoletto  whispered. 

"Now,  my  child;  they  have  gone.  Speak! "  Gilda  throw- 
ing herself  into  her  father's  arms,  told  of  her  meetings 
with  the  Duke,  and  of  how  she  had  grown  to  love  him, 
and  finally  of  how  in  the  night  she  had  been  carried  away. 

As  they  were  in  each  other's  arms  the  guard  entered 
with  old  Count  Monterone,  who  was  being  taken  to  his 
cell.  As  he  was  being  led  across  the  room,  Rigoletto's 
wild  eyes  fixed  themselves  in  horror  upon  the  man  whose 
curse  had  cursed  him.  The  Count  paused  before  the 
Duke's  picture  and  cursed  it. 

"I  shall  be  the  instrument  to  fulfill  thy  curse,  old  man," 
Rigoletto  whispered  as  the  Count  passed  out,  and  he  made 
a  frightful  oath  of  vengeance  against  the  Duke  of  Mantua. 
His  words  frightened  Gilda,  because  she  dearly  loved  the 
Duke  even  though  she  believed  he  had  caused  her  to  be 
carried  off.  As  the  jester  raised  his  hand  to  take  the 
dreadful  oath  to  kill,  Gilda  fell  upon  her  knees  beside  him. 

ACT  ni 

Rigoletto  and  Gilda  had  fled  from  the  palace,  for  the 
dwarf  meant  to  hide  his  daughter  away  forever;  and  in 


Rigoletto 


259 


the  darkness  they  were  hurrying  on  their  way  to  an  old 
inn,  which  could  be  seen  near  at  hand.  A  swift,  rushing 
river  ran  back  of  the  inn,  and  the  innkeeper  could  be 
seen  inside  his  house  sitting  at  a  table  polishing  an  old 
belt.  It  was  the  villainous  old  cut-throat,  Sparafucile, 
who  had  stopped  Rigoletto  on  his  way  home  two  nights 
before,  offering  to  kill  whomever  Rigoletto  would  for  a 
sum  of  money. 

Gilda  was  very  weary  and  she  and  her  father  were 
about  to  stop  at  the  inn  for  the  night.  They  were  speak- 
ing in  the  road: 

"Do  you  still  love  the  Duke,  my  child?" 
"Alas,  father!  I  cannot  help  it.  I  think  I  shall  always 
love  him."  At  that  moment  Rigoletto  espied  a  man, 
dressed  as  a  cavalry  officer,  approaching  the  inn  by 
another  road.  Instantly  he  recognized  the  Duke  in 
disguise.  He  peeped  through  an  opening  in  the  wall 
which  surrounded  the  house  and  could  see  the  Duke 
greeting  Sparafucile  and  ordering  a  bottle  of  wine,  after 
which  he  gaily  sang,  while  waiting: 


Coil  hrio 


Plume       in 


summer      wind, 
legato. 


Way — ward — ly 


play — ing,  Ne'er  one  way 


;¥r 


sway- — injr, 


mg,  etc 


26o  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

The  song  was  gay  and  thoughtless,  and  when  it  should 
be  last  heard  by  Rigoletto  it  was  to  have  a  fearful  meaning. 

"Ah,  ha?"  Rigoletto  murmured  to  himself.  "This 
rat  of  a  noble  is  seeking  some  new  adventure !  Let  us  see 
if  Gilda  will  continue  to  love  him  when  she  knows  the 
true  wickedness  of  the  wretch!  when  she  knows  that  he 
is  false  to  all  that  he  has  said  to  her:  because  there  is  of 
course  another  woman  in  the  case!"  While  Rigoletto 
was  observing  him,  the  wine  was  brought  to  the  Duke, 
who  raised  his  sword  and  rapped  upon  the  ceiling  with 
its  hilt.  At  that  signal  a  pretty  girl  ran  down  the  ladder 
and  Mantua  embraced  her. 

That  freed  Sparafucile  and  he  ran  out  of  the  inn  to 
look  for  Rigoletto,  whose  coming  was  expected.  In 
fact,  Rigoletto  had  at  last  made  a  bargain  with  the  coupe- 
jarret  to  kill  the  Duke. 

"Your  man's  inside.  Shall  I  do  the  job  at  once,  or 
wait  a  bit?" 

"Wait  a  bit,"  said  Rigoletto,  glancing  at  Gilda,  who 
heard  nothing,  "I'll  give  the  signal,"  whereupon  Spara- 
fucile went  off,  toward  the  river.  Then  while  the  father 
and  daughter  stood  outside  the  inn  they  could  see  all 
that  was  taking  place  within  it.  The  Duke  began  to 
make  love  to  the  gipsy  girl,  and  she  laughed  at  him. 

"You  have  told  fifty  girls  what  you  tell  me,"  she 
declared. 

"Well,  I'll  admit  all  that.  I  am  an  unfaithful  fellow 
—  but  you  don't  mind  that!  Just  at  this  moment  I 
love  no  one  in  the  world  but  you,"  he  returned. 

"Father,  do  you  hear  that  traitor?"  Gilda  whis- 
pered, tearfully,  and  Rigoletto  nodded.  He  was  indeed 
glad;    maybe  it  would  cure  her  of  her  infatuation. 

"I  must  laugh  to  think  how  many  girls  you  have  made 


Rigoletto  261 

believe  you,"  the  gipsy  said  again,  mocking  the  Duke. 
But  he  only  protested  the  more,  and  Gilda  threw  her 
arms  about  her  father  in  despair. 

"Now,  my  child,  since  this  traitor  is  here,  you  cannot 
well  go  in;  so  return  to  Mantua,  change  thy  dress  for 
that  of  a  youth;  get  a  horse  and  fly  to  Verona.  There  I 
will  meet  thee  and  see  thee  safe.  You  can  see  that  this 
man  is  no  longer  to  be  trusted." 

"Alas,  I  know  that  is  true;  —  yet,  if  I  must  go  —  come 
with  me,  father,"  she  entreated,  feeling  very  lonely  and 
heartbroken,  there  in  the  dark  night. 

"Not  at  once.  I  cannot  go  at  once;  but  I  will  soon 
join  thee";  and  in  spite  of  her  pleading  he  started  her 
back  to  the  city  alone.  Then  he  and  Sparafucile  stood 
together  in  the  middle  of  the  road  while  the  dwarf 
counted  out  the  half  of  the    money  to  the  cut-throat. 

"Here  is  thy  money,  and  I  am  going  away.  But  at 
midnight  I  shall  return  and  help  thee  throw  him  into  the 
river.  It  will  make  a  great  noise,  —  this  killing  of  a  man 
of  the  Duke  of  Mantua's  fame,"  he  muttered. 

"Never  mind  about  coming  back.  I  can  dump  him 
into  the  river,  without  help.  It  is  going  to  be  a  bad 
night,"  the  fellow  said,  uneasily  looking  up  at  the  storm 
clouds  that  were  gathering.  As  the  lightning  began 
to  flash  and  the  thunder  to  roll  distantly,  Rigoletto 
turned  toward  Mantua,  while  Sparafucile  went  into  the 
inn. 

"A  fine  night!  Black  as  thunder  and  going  to  storm 
like  Satan,"  he  said  as  he  entered. 

"So  much  the  better,"  the  Duke  answered,  "I'll 
stay  here  all  night,  and  you  clear  out,"  to  Spara- 
fucile; —  "go  to  the  devil,  will  you?  I  don't  want  you 
about." 


262  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"You're  a  nice,  soft  spoken  gentlemen — if  a  man 
doesn't  care  what  he  says,"  Sparafucile  returned. 

"You  mustn't  stay  here,"  Maddalena  said  hastily  to 
the  Duke.  She  well  knew  the  tricks  her  brother  was  up 
to  when  a  stranger  with  money  stopped  at  the  house;  and 
after  the  Duke  had  made  himself  so  agreeable  she  didn't 
care  to  see  him  killed  under  her  nose. 

"You  mind  your  business,"  her  brother  said  to  her, 
shortly,  seeing  his  plans  interfered  with.  Then  speak- 
ing to  her  aside:  "It's  worth  a  pot-full  of  gold  to  us. 
Mind  your  own  business,  I  say."  Then  to  the  Duke: 
"Sir,  I  am  delighted  to  have  you  sleep  at  my  inn.  Pray 
take  shelter  in  my  own  chamber.  Come,  I  will  show  you 
the  way."  Sparafucile  took  the  candle  and  went  toward 
the  ladder  that  led  to  the  rooms  above. 

The  Duke  then  whispered  to  the  gipsy  girl,  and  went 
laughing  up  the  ladder.  Maddalena  looked  thought- 
fully after  him.  She  liked  money  as  well  as  her  brother 
did.     Should  she  let  her  brother  kill  him  or  not? 

"Heavens!  That  thunder  is  loud,"  she  exclaimed,  as 
the  storm  struck  the  dreadful  house.  Up  in  the  loft,  the 
Duke  was  laughing  with  Sparafucile  about  the  airiness  of 
the  chamber. 

"Well,  well,  I'm  tired,"  he  said,  after  the  cut-throat  had 
gone  down  the  ladder.  "I'll  take  off  my  sword  and  have 
an  hour's  sleep,  anyway."  He  removed  his  protecting 
sword,  and  began  to  hum  to  himself  while  he  was  waiting 
for  more  wine.  The  storm,  the  gay  song,  the  murder 
which  was  about  to  be  committed!  — it  was  a  fearful  hour. 

Down  below  Sparafucile  was  saying  to  his  sister:  "Go 
and  get  my  dagger.  This  affair  will  give  us  a  tidy  sum 
of  money."  Maddalena  listened  to  the  Duke  singing 
above  and  hesitated. 


Rigoletto  263 

"He  —  he  is  young  and  —  no  —  we  shall  not  do  this 
thing,  Sparafucile,"  she  declared. 

"Come!  No  foolishness,  now,"  he  growled.  "Get 
my  dagger  and  be  quick."  She  reluctantly  ascended  the 
staircase  again  to  where  the  Duke  was  sleeping.  It  was 
not  very  light.  The  flickering  candle  made  but  a  waver- 
ing shadow  over  all,  and  as  Maddalena  went  up  the  lad- 
der, Giida,  who  had  returned,  softly  stole  up  to  the  inn 
door  and  began  to  listen  to  what  went  on  within,  but  not 
daring  to  enter.  She  had  returned  because  for  some  rea- 
son unknown  to  herself  she  was  oppressed  with  a  sense 
of  danger  to  the  Duke  who  had  so  ill-treated  her. 
Through  the  chink  of  the  door  she  could  see  the  inn- 
keeper at  the  table  drinking.  Gilda  had  already  changed 
her  girl's  clothing  for  that  of  a  youth  with  spurs  and  boots. 

Now  she  saw  Maddalena  come  back  down  the  stairs 
with  the  Duke's  sword  which  she  had  stolen  from  his  side, 

"Oh,  it  is  a  horrible  night,"  Gilda  whispered  to  herself, 
shuddering  and  cold  and  frightened  there  in  the  dark, 
with  only  Sparafucile's  wicked  face  before  her. 

"Brother,"  Maddalena  began,  "I  am  not  going  to 
let  you  kill  that  young  man  up  there.  I  have  taken  a 
fancy  to  him  and  I  won't  let  you  do  it." 

"You  mind  your  own  affairs  and  get  away  from  here. 
I'll  attend  to  my  business,"  he  snarled.  Upon  hearing 
there  was  a  plan  to  kill  the  Duke  whom  after  all  she  truly 
loved,  unworthy  as  he  was,  Gilda  nearly  fainted. 

"You  just  take  this  sack  and  mend  it,"  Sparafucile 
said,  throwing  an  old  sack  toward  his  sister. 

"What  for?"  she  asked  suspiciously. 

"It  is  to  hold  your  fine  young  man,  up  there  —  when 
I  shall  throw  him  in  the  river."  Upon  hearing  that, 
Gilda  sank  down  upon  the  stone  step. 


264  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"See  here!  If  it  were  not  for  the  money  you  are  to 
get,  you  would  let  him  go,  I  know,"  Maddalena  urged. 

"  Well,  no  —  because  you  see  already  I  have  received 
half  my  pay,  and  the  fellow  I  am  doing  the  job  for  is  a 
nasty  customer,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  shouldn't  dare 
let  the  Duke  go. 

''Then  listen  to  my  plan:  The  hunchback  will  pres- 
ently return  with  the  rest  of  the  money."  Gilda  learned 
then  to  her  horror  that  it  was  her  father  who  had  bar- 
gained for  the  Duke's  assassination.  "WTien  the  jester 
comes,  kill  him  instead  and  take  his  money  —  all  of  it  — 
and  throw  him  into  the  river,  and  let  this  young  man 
above  go."  At  that  Gilda  could  not  longer  support 
herself  and  she  fell  down  upon  the  ground. 

"No,  I  won't  do  it,"  the  fellow  said  doggedly.  "I 
agreed  to  kill  the  man  upstairs  —  and  there  must  be  hon- 
our among  rogues.  It  wouldn't  be  right  to  kill  the  one  I 
hadn't  bargained  for.  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  kill  my 
employer,"  the  rascal  returned  piously. 

"I'll  call  him,  then,  and  tell  him  to  defend  himself," 
the  girl  cried,  running  toward  the  stairs. 

"Hold  on  there,"  Sparafucile  cried;  "I'll  tell  you  —  I 
agree  to  kill  the  first  man  who  enters  this  house  between 
now  and  midnight,  in  the  Duke's  stead,  if  that  will  suit 
you.  Then  we  shall  put  him  in  the  sack,  and  the  hunch- 
back will  not  know  the  difference.  Will  that  suit  you?" 
he  repeated. 

"That  will  do,  and  see  that  you  keep  your  word  or 
I  will  arouse  the  young  man,  I  promise  you." 

At  that  moment  the  clock  struck  half  past  eleven,  and 
Gilda  was  frantic  with  fear.  Maddalena  was  in  tears, 
fearing  that  no  one  would  come  along,  in  that  storm,  so 
late  at  night. 


Rigoletto  265 

"If  no  one  comes!"  Gilda  thinks  shudderingly.  "Oh, 
how  shall  I  save  him?"  But  no  sooner  had  she  that 
thought  than  a  desperate  plan  entered  her  mind.  She 
would  go  into  the  inn!  She  was  dressed  like  a  young 
man  and  no  one  would  ever  know  the  difference  in  the 
darkness  and  the  storm.  She  would  go  in  and  the  Duke 
would  be  spared.  Then  she  waited  a  moment,  overcome 
with  the  fear  of  death ;  finally,  summoning  all  her  courage, 
she  knocked  against  the  door. 

"Who's  there?"  Both  Maddalena  and  Sparafucile 
exclaimed,  looking  in  terror  at  each  other.  The  knock 
was  sudden  and  ominous.     Then  another  knock. 

"Who's  there?"  again  he  called. 

"A  stranger,  caught  in  the  storm.  Will  you  give 
me  shelter?"  Gilda  could  hardly  speak,  with  terror. 
Maddalena  and  the  murderer  looked  at  each  other 
significantly.  They  knew  well  what  they  would  do 
the  moment  the  door  was  opened.  The  lightning 
flashed,  the  thunder  rolled  and  broke  above  them,  and 
the  scene  became  terrifying.  Sparafucile  placed  him- 
self behind  the  door  and  motioned  to  Maddalena  to 
open  it. 

"Thou  art  welcome,"  she  said,  throwing  the  door  back 
suddenly;  and  as  Gilda  stumbled  in,  Maddalena  ran  out 
and  closed  the  gateway.  The  candle  went  out  in  the 
gust  of  wind,  and  all  was  dark.  Gilda  stood  an  instant 
in  the  blackness  of  the  room.  With  one  blow  of  the  knife, 
which  could  not  be  seen  for  the  darkness,  Sparafucile 
killed  her,  and  then  all  was  silent.  After  a  moment  the 
storm  broke  away,  the  moon  came  forth,  and  Rigoletto 
could    be  seen  coming  up  the  river  bank. 

"It  is  the  time  of  my  vengeance,  now,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself.     He  tried  the  inn  door  and  found  it 


266  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

locked.  "He  cannot  have  done  the  deed  yet,"  he  mut- 
tered.   After  waiting  a  little  he  knocked. 

"WOio's  there?" 

"I  am  known  to  thee,"  he  whispered  back;  at  this 
Sparafucile  came  out,  dragging  behind  him  a  sack. 

"Bring  a  light,"  Rigoletto  called,  "that  I  may  see  him." 

"That's  all  right  —  but  you  pay  my  money  first,"  the 
cut-throat  insisted.     Rigoletto  impatiently  paid  him. 

"I'll  throw  him  into  the  river,  myself,"  Rigoletto  said 
triumphantly. 

"The  tide  is  shallow  here  —  go  farther  on  —  and  be  sure 
no  one  surprises  you,"  Sparafucile  advised.  "Good 
night,"  he  said  shortly,  and  went  inside  the  inn.  Then 
Rigoletto  stood  in  the  dripping  road  looking  gloatingly 
at  the  sack. 

"I've  got  you  at  last,"  he  chuckled,  diabolically,  "I 
have  revenge  for  your  treatment  of  my  daughter.  My 
dear  daughter!  The  child  of  my  heart!"  At  the  very 
thought  of  what  she  had  suffered  the  dwarf  sobbed.  "I'll 
put  my  foot  upon  you,  you  noble  vermin,"  he  cried,  kick- 
ing the  body  in  the  sack.  At  that  moment  he  heard  a 
song  —  La  Donna  t  Mobile —  The  voice!  Was  he 
going  mad?  He  knew  the  voice.  He  had  heard  it  only 
a  few  hours  ago,  in  the  inn  —  he  had  heard  it  daily  at 
court  —  La  Donna  e  Mobile!  He  looked  toward  the 
windov/s  of  the  inn.  La  Donna  e  Mobile/  As  he  looked 
he  saw  the  Duke  and  Maddalena  step  from  the  window  to 
the  terrace  that  ran  by  the  river  bank.  "La  Donna  e 
Mobile,"  the  Duke  sang  gaily.  With  a  frightful  cry, 
Rigoletto  dragged  the  sack  open  and  the  body  of  his 
murdered  daughter  rolled  out  upon  the  road.  She  moved 
ever  so  little. 

"Father?"  and  she  gasped  out  the  truth,  with  a  dy- 


II  Trovatore 


267 


ing   breath,  while    the  dwarf    shrieked   and    tore    his 
hair. 

"The  curse,  the  curse!  Monterone's  curse!"  he 
screamed,  and  went  raving  mad. 

IL  TROVATORE 

CHARACTERS  OF  THE  OPERA,  WITH  THE  ORIGINAL  CAST  AS  PRESENTED 
AT  THE   FIRST  PERFORMANCE 

Leonora Pence 

Azucena Goggi 

Inez Quadri 

Manrico Boucarde 

Count  di  Luna Guicciardi 

Ferrando Balderi 

Ruiz Bazzoti 

An  old  gipsy. 

Messenger,  jailer,  soldiers,  nuns,  gipsies,  and  attendants. 

The  story  belongs  to  the  fifteenth  century  in  Spain,  and  tells  of 
the  border  wars  of  northern  Spain,  carried  on  in  the  provinces  of 
Arragon  and  Biscay. 

Composer:  Giuseppe  Verdi. 
Author:  Cammarano. 

First  sung  in  Rome,  Tedlre  Apollo,  January,  19, 1853;  Paris,  Thed' 
ire  dcs  Italiens,  Deccmljcr  it,,  1854  (in  Italian);  at  the  O^era,  Jan- 
uary 12,  1857  (in  French);  London,  Covcnt  Garden,  May  17,  1855; 
New  York,  Academy  of  ^lusic,  April  30,  1855. 

ACT  I 


li  ^       ^     >     > 


268  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

There  you  are,  prepared  for  almost  anything  in  the 
way  of  battle,  murder,  or  sudden  death,  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  beautiful  music;  opera  in  true  Italian  style, 
at  its  second  best. 

Soldiers  and  servants  were  gathered  about  the  beauti- 
ful columns  of  a  porch  of  the  Aliaferia  palace  just  before 
midnight  awaiting  the  return  of  the  Count  di  Luna. 
Among  them  was  Ferrando,  the  captain  of  the  Count's 
guard.  All  were  lounging  in  the  vestibule  of  the  palace 
gossiping  till  it  was  time  to  go  on  duty  w^ithin. 

"Hey,  wake  up!  You'll  be  caught  napping,"  Ferran- 
do called  to  his  comrades.  "It  is  time  for  the  Count  to 
come.  I  suppose  he  has  been  under  the  Lady  Leonora's 
windows.  Ah,  he  is  madly  in  love  with  her  —  and  so 
jealous  of  that  troubadour  who  sings  beneath  her  windows 
that  some  day  they  will  meet  and  kill  each  other." 

This  was  an  old  story  to  the  men,  and  in  their  effort 
to  keep  awake  they  clamoured  for  the  story  of  the  Count 
di  Luna's  brother,  which  all  had  heard  told  with  more 
or  less  of  truth;  but  Ferrando  knew  the  whole  horrible 
tale  better  than  any  one  else;  besides,  it  was  a  good  story 
to  keep  awake  on. 

"Ah,  that  was  a  great  tragedy  for  the  House  of  Luna," 
Ferrando  began  with  a  shiver.  "I  remember  it  as  if  it 
were  but  yesterday:" 


When  the  good  Count  di  Luna  here  resided, 

Two  children  fair  he  numbered; 
One  to  a  faithful  nurse  was  once  confided, 

By  the  cradle  she  slumbered. 

At  morning  when  she  woke  and  gazed  about  her, 

Sorely  stricken  was  she. 
And  what  sight  do  ye  think  did  so  confound  her  ? 

Cho.     .     .     .    What,  oh  tell  us  did  she  see  ? 


.  II  Trovaiore 


269 


Ferrando. 

Allegretto.     Mysteriousli/. 


A 


ie^^ 


It: 


Swar — thy 
PP  mezza  voce. 


and 


t    f   f    f 


\^ill!'-^^ 


-•— ^ 


threat  —  en  —  ing, 


^^t=^=fa=f=^: 


Bear— ing     of 


=^^n-T 


:-g=^ 


fiend — ish    art,       sym- 


-bols    in- 


^ 


PP 

—ft— 


f    »    f    f 


-hu — man 


^ 


-!q— U     .1        y        1-1^-1        p 


-^l-*-^;- 


Uc 


the         in — fant         fierce ly      she 


her      arm    she       rais — es  ! 


i    1    i 
Spell — bound  the 


-^— ^ 


^ 


lilTHi 


-J ^^ 


m 


till 


nurse     watch'd     at 


first    the      bel — da — me 


270 


Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 


was      answer'd       in      the 


vants     of    the 


The  frightful  story  was  sung  in  a  deep  bass  voice,  by 
Ferrando.  He  sang  of  how  the  cry  of  the  nurse  on  that 
morning  years  before  had  brought  the  servants  running 
and  they  had  put  the  gipsy  out;  but  almost  at  once  the 
baby  grew  ill,  and  the  Count  and  his  people  believed  the 
old  hag  had  put  a  spell  upon  it,  so  that  it  would  die.  They 
sought  wildly  for  her,  and,  when  they  finally  found  her, 
they  burned  her  alive. 

While  that  frightful  scene  was  being  enacted,  the  baby 
was  stolen,  outright,  and  the  di  Luna  family  saw  it 
thrown  upon  the  fire  which  had  consumed  the  gipsy. 


II  Trovatore  271 

This  deed  was  done  by  the  daughter  of  the  gipsy  whom 
they  had  burned  alive.  There  were  those  who  believed 
that  the  child  burned  had  not  been  the  Count's,  but  a 
young  gipsy  baby  —  which  was  quite  as  horrible.  The 
name  of  the  young  woman  who  had  done  this  fiendish 
thing  was  Azucena,  and  the  di  Lunas  searched  for  her 
year  after  year  without  success. 

It  was  believed  that  the  spirit  of  the  hag  they  had 
burned  had  entered  into  the  younger  woman's  body.  The 
gossiping  soldiers  and  servants  sang: 

Anon  on  the  eaves  of  the  house-tops  3'ou'll  see  her, 
In  form  of  a  vampire;  'tis  then  you  must  flee  her; 
A  crow  of  ill-omen  she  often  is  roaming, 
Or  else  as  an  owl  that  flits  by  in  the  gloaming. 

While  they  were  talking  of  this  tragedy  for  the  hun- 
dredth time,  it  approached  the  hour  of  midnight.  The 
servants,  through  fear,  drew  closer  together,  and  the  sol- 
diers formed  a  rank  across  the  plaza  at  the  back. 

Each  recalled  some  frightful  happening  in  relation  to 
witches;  how  one  man  who  had  given  a  witch  a  blow,  had 
died,  shrieking  and  in  awful  agony.  He  had  been  haunt- 
ed. It  was  at  the  midnight  hour  that  he  had  died!  As 
they  spoke  of  this,  the  castle  bell  tolled  the  midnight  hour. 
The  men,  wrought  up  with  fright,  yelled  sharply,  and  the 
face  of  the  moon  was  hidden  for  a  moment. 

Scene  II 

When  the  cloud  which  had  hidden  the  moon's  rays 
cleared  away,  a  beautiful  garden  belonging  to  the  palace 
was  revealed.  The  place  was  very  silent,  the  soldiers 
and  servants,  excepting  those  on  guard,  having  gone 
within. 


272  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

The  Lady  Leonora,  whom  the  Count  di  Luna  loved, 
was  one  of  the  suite  of  the  Princess  of  Arragon,  and  when 
all  in  the  palace  were  sleeping  it  was  her  custom  to  steal 
into  the  lovely  gardens  with  her  friend,  Inez.  Of  late, 
when  she  came  there,  she  had  hoped,  secretly,  to  find  a 
mysterious  young  troubadour,  who  sang  almost  nightly 
beneath  her  windows.  She  loved  this  troubadour  and 
not  the  Count. 

The  first  time  she  had  met  the  handsome  youth  was 
at  a  tournament.  There  he  had  come,  dressed  in  a  suit 
of  black,  and  all  unknown;  wearing  a  sweeping  sable  plume 
in  his  helmet;  and  when  the  jousting  took  place,  he  had 
vanquished  all  the  nobles.  It  was  Leonora,  herself,  who 
had  placed  the  wreath  of  the  victor  upon  his  brow.  From 
that  very  moment  they  had  loved.  He  had  worn  no 
device  upon  his  shield  by  which  he  could  be  known,  but 
she  had  loved  him  for  a  gallant  knight. 

He  belonged  to  the  retinue  of  a  neighbouring  prince, 
who  was  an  enemy  of  the  Princess  of  Arragon,  and  he 
risked  his  life  each  time  he  came  to  sing  in  the  gardens 
to  Leonora. 

"Ah,  I  fear  some  harm  will  come  of  this  love  of  yours! " 
Inez  said  to  her  friend  and  mistress.  "The  Princess 
awaits  thee,  dear  Countess,  and  we  must  go  within.  I 
hope  your  trust  will  never  be  betrayed  by  this  unknown 
knight  and  singer."  The  women  mounted  the  gleaming 
marble  staircase,  and  then  Leonora  paused  for  a  moment 
looking  down  into  the  garden  again. 

She  had  no  sooner  gone  than  a  man  peered  out  from  the 
shadow  of  the  trees.  It  was  the  Count  di  Luna,  jeal- 
ously watching  for  the  knight  who  sang  beneath  the 
lady's  window.  Also,  he  hoped  to  see  Leonora,  herself, 
but  all  was  still,  and  after  watching  the  balcony  a  moment, 


II  Trovatore 


273 


he  started  toward  the  marble  steps.    At  that  instant  a 
beautiful  voice  stole  through  the  moonlight. 


Manrico. 

Cantahllc  a  mezza  voce. 


joy    hath    be  —  reft- 


It  was  Manrico  the  troubadour! 

The  Count  paused  upon  the  stair  and  looked  down; 
but  Leonora,  too,  had  heard,  and  ran  out  upon  the  bal- 
cony, then  down  the  steps,  throwing  herself  into  the 
Count's  arms,  mistaking  him  for  Manrico.  Manrico, 
still  hidden  by  the  shadows,  witnessed  this,  and  becom- 
ing enraged  at  the  sight,  believing  Leonora  faithless,  he 
rushed  upon  them  just  as  the  moon  again  shone  forth 
and  revealed  to  Leonora  that  she  was  in  the  Count's 
arms,  instead  of  the  troubadour's. 

"Traitress!"     Manrico  cried. 

"Manrico,  the  light  blinded  me,"  she  implored,  throw- 
ing herself  at  the  troubadour's  feet. 


For  thee  alone  the  words  were  meant, 
If  those  words  to  him  were  spoken, 

she  sang. 

"I  believe  thee,"  Manrico  answered;  while  the  Count, 
enraged  in  his  turn,  cried: 

"You  shall  fight  with  me.  Sir  Knight!" 

"Aye,  behold  me!"  Manrico  answered,  lifting  his  visor 


274  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

and  standing  in  the  bright  light  of  the  moon.  At  the 
sight  of  him  di  Luna  started  back: 

"Manrico!    The  brigand!    Thou  darest " 

"To  fight  thee?  Aye,  have  at  it!"  and  Manrico  stood 
en  garde.  Leonora  implored  them  not  to  fight,  but  too 
late.    They  would  fight  to  the  death. 

"Follow  me,"  di  Luna  called,  drawing  his  sword,  which 
he  had  half  sheathed  when  he  had  seen  that  his  antago- 
nist was  not  of  noble  birth  like  himself.  "Follow  me," 
and  he  hurried  off  among  the  trees,  followed  by  Manrico. 

"I  follow,  and  I  shall  kill  thee,"  the  handsome 
troubadour  cried,  as  he  too  rushed  off  after  the  Count. 
Whereupon  the  Countess  Leonora  fell  senseless. 

ACT  n 

This  opera  of  shadows  and  darkness  began  again  in  a 
ghostly  ruin  in  the  mountains  of  Biscay.  A  forge  fire 
blazed  through  a  yawning  doorway  of  tumbled-down 
stones.  It  was  not  yet  day,  but  very  soon  it  would  be; 
and  Manrico,  the  handsome  knight,  brigand,  troubadour, 
lover  of  Leonora,  lay  wounded  upon  a  low  couch  near  the 
forge  fire.  Azucena,  his  gipsy  mother,  sat  beside  him, 
tenderly  watching.  Many  months  had  passed  since  the 
night  of  the  duel  in  the  palace  garden,  when  Manrico  had 
had  di  Luna  at  his  mercy,  but  had  spared  him.  Since 
that  time  there  had  been  war  between  the  factions  of 
Arragon  and  Biscay,  and  Manrico  had  been  sorely 
wounded  in  his  prince's  service.  Here  he  had  lain  ever 
since,  in  the  gipsy  rendezvous,  cared  for  by  his  mother. 

All  night  the  gipsy  band  had  been  at  work,  forging 
weapons  with  which  to  fight,  and  just  before  the  early 
dawn  they  were  discovered  singing  a  fine  chorus,  which 


II  Trovatore  275 

they  accompanied  by  a  rhythmic  pounding  upon  their 
anvils. 

There,  beside  him,  through  the  long  nights,  Azucena 
had  sat,  conjuring  back  memories  of  her  fierce  past,  and 
soon  she  broke  into  a  ■v^ild  song  describing  the  death  of 
her  mother,  years  before,  when  Manrico  was  a  baby. 
She  sang  how  that  old  mother  had  been  burned  at  the 
stake  by  the  di  Lunas  —  by  the  father  of  the  li\ing  Count. 

"Di  Luna,  mother?"  Manrico  questioned. 

"Aye,  it  was  di  Luna.  Why  did  ye  not  kill  the  young 
Count  when  ye  fought?"  she  asked,  fiercely. 

"I  do  not  know,"  he  murmured,  rising  upon  his  elbow. 
"Mother,  do  you  know  when  I  had  disarmed  him,  some- 
thing seemed  to  hold  me  back,  to  paralyze  my  arm.  I 
hated  him,  but  I  could  not  strike  the  death-blow." 

"His  father  burned  my  mother  at  the  stake,  Manrico. 
Ye  must  avenge  me."  And  at  that  moment  a  gipsy  in- 
terrupted the  talk  between  mother  and  son  by  cr}dng: 

"The  sun  rises  I  we  must  be  off!"  Thereupon  the 
gipsy  band  threw  their  tools  into  bags,  gathered  up  their 
cloaks  and  hats,  and  one  by  one  and  in  groups  they  dis- 
appeared down  the  mountain-side,  leaving  Azucena  and 
her  wounded  son  alone  in  the  ruined  hut.  He  remained 
wrapped  in  his  mantle,  sword  and  horn  beside  him,  while 
the  old  hag  continued  to  croon  about  the  horrors  of  the 
past.  In  her  ever-increasing  rage  she  called  again  and 
again  upon  Manrico  to  avenge  her. 

"Again  those  vengeful  words,  mother!  There  is 
something  in  thy  voice  which  I  do  not  understand." 

"Listen!  I  will  tell  thee!  I  have  told  thee  how  my 
mother  was  accused,  arrested  by  the  old  Count  and  burned 
ahve.  Well,  in  that  fearful  moment,  crazed  v.ith  grief 
I  crept  into  the  palace,  snatched  the  Count's  child,  and 


276  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

rushed  out,  thinking  only  of  my  revenge.  With  maddened 
mind  I  tossed  the  babe  into  the  flames  that  were  consum- 
ing my  mother  —  or  so  I  thought !  But  when  I  looked 
around  there  was  the  child  of  noble  birth,  and  my  own 
was  gone.  It  was  you  who  were  left  to  me.  My  own  child 
had  gone  into  the  flames.    I  snatched  thee  up  and  fled." 

"What  is  this  that  ye  tell  me?"  Manrico  cried,  his 
eyes  strained,  his  body  stifi'ened  with  horror.  "Thou  who 
art  so  tender  of  me  — "  and  he  fell  back  upon  his  couch 
overcome  with  the  frightful  deed. 

"I  was  mad!  but  now  you  must  avenge  me.  You 
must  ruin  my  enemy.  Have  I  not  tended  thee  as  my 
own,  and  loved  thee?" 

"Oh,  tale  of  woe!  Mother,  speak  no  more."  Fright- 
ful as  the  deed  had  been,  he  tried  to  soothe  the  demented 
old  woman  who  had  truly  cared  for  him  with  a  mother's 
care.  He  had  known  no  other  mother,  but  the  tale  had 
distracted  him.  The  knowledge  that  the  Count  di 
Luna,  whose  life  he  had  spared,  was  his  own  brother,  ex- 
plained much  to  him.  No  wonder  something  had  stayed 
his  hand  when  he  might  have  killed  him.  Yet,  he  also 
recalled  that  his  unsuspecting  brother  loved  Leonora. 
In  all  their  encounters,  di  Luna  had  shown  only  a  hard, 
unyielding  heart,  and  Manrico  had  no  reason  to  love  him. 
After  all,  Manrico  was  but  a  wild  young  brigand,  living 
in  a  lawless  time,  when  nobles  themselves  were  highway- 
men and  without  violating  custom.  Such  a  one  had  little 
self-control. 

"Show  di  Luna  no  mercy,  my  son,"  Azucena  urged. 
"Art  thou  not  my  son?  my  own,  dear  son?"  Then  sud- 
denly remembering  all  that  her  distraught  condition  had 
betrayed  her  into  saying,  she  cried  remorsefully: 

"I  am  an  old  and  wretched  woman  who  has  seen  much 


II  Trovatore  277 

sorrow.  When  I  spoke  I  was  distracted  with  my  griefs, 
but  remember  the  Count  di  Luna  and  do  not  spare  him. 
If  you  do,  he  will  take  the  Lady  Leonora  from  thee." 

"True,  mother,  and  I  will  kill  him,"  the  troubadour 
said  suddenly.  The  thought  of  di  Luna's  rivalry  over- 
came his  sense  of  humanity. 

The  forge  fire  died  down,  and  Manrico,  exhausted  by 
his  mother's  story,  lay  back  upon  his  couch  while  his 
mother  continued  to  sit,  lost  in  her  tragic  thoughts,  but 
while  he  rested,  half  sleeping,  the  long  clear  note  of  a 
horn  was  heard,  and  Manrico  started  up. 

"It  is  Ruiz,"  he  said  anxiously,  believing  it  to  be  his 
servant.  Snatching  his  horn  from  his  belt,  he  blew  a 
clear,  answering  blast.  In  a  moment  a  messenger,  who 
was  not  Ruiz,  ran  in. 

"Quick,  what  is  thy  news?"  Manrico  demanded,  made 
apprehensive  by  illness  and  the  stories  he  had  heard.  He 
expected  misfortune  from  every  quarter. 

"A  letter  for  thee,  Master,"  the  messenger  panted, 
leaning  against  the  rocky  wall,  worn  with  running.  Man- 
rico read  excitedly: 

"Our  men  have  taken  Castellar.  The  Prince's  order 
is  that  thou  shalt  come  instantly  to  defend  it.  Unless 
thy  wounds  have  laid  thee  low,  I  shall  expect  thee.  Know 
that,  deceived  by  the  tidings  of  thy  death,  the  beautiful 
Lady  Leonora  will  this  day  become  the  elect  of  Heaven." 
Manrico  started,  then  stared  at  the  letter  again.  Leo- 
nora to  enter  a  convent  where  he  could  never  see  her 
again!     No! 

"Bring  me  my  horse,  quick.  I  shall  join  thee  below 
the  hill.  Mother,  I  go!  My  mantle!"  And  snatching  his 
cloak  and  helmet,  his  mother  threw  her  arms  about  him. 

"Where  do  you  go,  my  son?"  she  cried  with  anxiety. 


278 


operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


"To  save  Leonora  —  let  me  go." 

"Thou  art  still  ill.  It  will  kill  thee,  and  I  shall  die  if 
I  lose  thee." 

"Farewell,  mother;  I  go.  Without  Leonora,  I  could 
not  live.  I  go."  Tearing  himself  from  her  he  rushed 
down  the  mountain. 

Scene  II 

Again  it  was  night;  there  was  always  an  appearance  of 
darkness  and  gloom  about  the  lovers.  From  the  clois- 
ters of  the  convent  to  which  Leonora  had  gone,  there 
stretched  away  at  the  back  a  deep  wood.  The  Count, 
having  heard  where  Leonora  was  hidden,  had  also  started 
with  his  followers  and  vassals,  to  reach  the  convent  be- 
fore she  could  take  the  veil  and  retire  forever  beyond  his 
reach.  When  he  reached  the  convent  it  was  just  before 
day,  and  with  Ferrando  he  stole  into  the  gardens,  wrapped 
in  his  long  cloak. 

"Everything  is  still;  the  convent  is  sleeping.  They 
have  ceased  their  prayers  awhile  and  we  are  safe,  Fer- 
rando," the  Count  whispereed. 

"It  is  a  bold  adventure.  Count.     I  fear " 

"Do  not  speak.  A  man  does  not  fear  when  he  is  in 
danger  of  losing  the  woman  he  loves."  He  began  to  sing 
softly: 

Cantabile.  ""  ',         '* 


n-^2-n 


nn 


=F 


m 


On      the      light      of      her  sweet  glanc — es, 
^  ^— ^        ^^ 


Joy      ce les  —  tial   beameth      up  —  on      me. 


//  Trovatore  279 

It  was  a  love  song  to  Leonora,  who,  within  the  convent, 
was  about  to  bury  herself  from  all  the  world,  believing 
Manrico  to  be  dead.  As  the  light  of  day  slowly  flushed 
the  scene,  a  bell  sounded  from  the  chapel  tower. 

"That  bell,  Ferrando!" 

"It  is  to  summon  the  nuns  to  prayer.  They  will  pass 
this  way." 

"Now  to  rescue  her!"  Di  Luna  motioned  to  his  men, 
who  had  lain  concealed  in  the  shadows.  "  She  is  coming," 
he  whispered,  watching  the  convent  door,  while  a  weird 
chant  floated  out.  The  nuns  were  singing.  While  di 
Luna  watched,  Leonora  came  from  the  convent  with  her 
beloved  friend,  Inez,  who  was  weeping. 

"Why  weep,  Inez?"  Leonora  asked,  gently. 

"In  another  hour  shall  we  not  be  forever  parted?" 

"Have  no  regrets  for  me,  dear  sister.  There  is  no  long- 
er any  happiness  for  me  in  this  life,  since  Manrico  is  dead. 
Come,  weep  no  more.     Let  us  go  to  the  altar." 

"No,"  di  Luna  cried,  rushing  upon  her,  while  the  nuns 
from  the  convent  screamed: 

"  Sacrilege !  Help  I "  They  struggled,  and  the  Count's  men 
rushed  up  to  help  him.  The  Count  had  overcome  Leonora 
and  was  about  to  flee  with  her,  when  Manrico  leaped  into 
the  midst  of  the  fight.  His  men  set  upon  the  Count's  men, 
while  Manrico  himself  lifted  Leonora  and  ran  off  with  her. 

His  men  vanquished  the  Count's.  Leonora  believed 
herself  in  Heaven  upon  finding  herself  in  Manrico's  arms, 
and  as  he  carried  her  away  he  cried  to  di  Luna  that  he 
would  be  revenged  upon  him.     Then  he  fled  to  Castellar. 

ACT  in 

At  last  this  tragedy  began  to  see  daylight,  inasmuch 
as  the  third  act  began  in  broad  day  with  the  banner  of 


28o  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

the  Count  floating  from  his  tent,  pitched  before  the  ram- 
parts of  Castellar,  which  could  be  seen  in  the  distance. 
Soldiers  were  moving  about,  brightening  their  armour, 
and  a  band  of  strong  crossbow-men  crossed  the  ravine 
behind  the  camp. 

"Those  are  the  troops  to  reinforce  us,"  some  of  the 
soldiers  sang  out. 

"We  shall  vanquish  Castellar  then,  without  delay," 
others  cried;  and  then  comes  a  famous  soldiers'  chorus. 
The  Count  di  Luna  came  from  his  tent  and  looked  oflf 
toward  the  grim  stronghold  of  Castellar. 

"Thy  day  is  over,"  he  said,  vindictively,  thinking  of 
Manrico,  who,  with  Leonora,  in  the  castle,  was  defending 
the  domain.  His  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  a  com- 
motion in  the  camp. 

"What  is  the  trouble  there?"  he  asked  Ferrando,  who 
came  from  the  hill. 

"A  wandering  gipsy  has  been  found  near  the  camp,  and 
the  men  believe  her  to  be  a  spy  from  Castellar.  They 
have  arrested  her,  and  are  bringing  her  to  you,  Count," 
he  announced  as  Azucena  appeared  with  some  men. 

"Let  me  go!"  she  screamed,  struggling  to  get  away 
from  her  captors. 

"Bring  her  here,"  di  Luna  said,  and  they  released  her 
before  him. 

"Where  is  your  home?" 

"Not  here,"  she  replied  sullenly. 

"Well,  where?" 

"The  gipsy  has  no  home;  she  wanders,  I  come  from 
Biscay,  if  you  must  know." 

Biscay!  Di  Luna  started  at  the  word.  Ferrando 
looked  at  him  quickly. 

"Say,  old  hag,  how  long  hast  thou  been  among  the 


II  Trovatore  281 

Biscay  mountains?  Dost  thou  remember  that  many 
years  ago  —  fifteen  —  a  young  child  was  stolen  from  a 
noble,  by  one  of  thy  people?" 

"What  is  that  you  say?"  she  screamed  in  fright. 

"I  say  the  child  was  my  brother." 

She  stared  at  him  in  horror.  "Well,"  she  muttered, 
"thy  tale  is  no  concern  of  mine."  But  Ferrando,  who 
had  been  watching  her  closely,  believed  he  recognized 
her  features. 

"Count,  do  not  let  her  go  —  it  is  the  murderess  herself; 
she  who  threw  thy  brother  upon  the  fire." 

"Ah,  my  God!"  The  Count  cried,  shrinking  away 
from  her.  "Let  me  punish  her.  To  the  stake  with  her!" 
and  she  was  instantly  surrounded  by  the  men. 

She  twisted  and  screamed,  calling  upon  Manrico  to 
come  and  save  his  mother,  but  Manrico  was  in  the  castle 
of  Castellar  defending  it  and  Leonora  from  the  Count 
below.  He  was  about  to  marry  the  Countess  and  they 
were  even  at  that  moment  on  their  way  to  the  chapel. 
They  entered  the  great  hall,  whose  windows  opened  out 
upon  the  horrid  scene  below,  where  Azucena  was  to  be 
burned  at  the  stake.  It  was  now  dusk,  and  the  clamour 
of  battle  could  be  plainly  heard,  within  the  hall.  Leo- 
nora, being  frightened,  asked  Manrico  if  the  trouble  would 
never  end. 

"Banish  all  sad  thoughts,  Leonora;  our  soldiers  will 
win  and  it  will  soon  be  over.  Think  only  of  joyful  things. 
We  shall  live  and  be  happy."  The  organ  sounded  from 
the  chapel.  "That  calls  us  to  our  marriage,"  Manrico 
said,  leading  her  toward  the  chapel  door,  but  as  they  were 
about  to  enter,  Ruiz  rushed  in. 

"Manrico!  Look  out  —  that  gipsy."  He  pointed 
frantically  out  of  the  window.     Manrico  looked,    and 


282  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

there  he  saw  his  old  mother  being  tied  to  the  stake,  the 
fagots  being  piled  about  her.  He  yelled  with  horror, 
"Leonora!  It  is  my  mother.  She  was  my  mother  be- 
fore I  loved  thee.  I  go  to  save  her.  Call  our  men,  Ruiz, 
I  follow!"  Embracing  Leonora,  he  rushed  wildly  away, 
while  the  trumpets  of  war  were  heard,  and  the  din  of 
battle  began. 

ACT  rv 

Back  at  Aliaferia,  Manrico  was  held  prisoner.  All 
was  gloom  and  darkness  again,  with  the  prison  tower 
where  Manrico  was  confined  looming  near,  its  bars  seem- 
ing very  sinister,  the  evening  more  forbidding  by  con- 
trast with  that  first  moonhght  night,  when  he  had  sung 
to  Leonora  in  the  gardens. 

Leonora,  protected  by  Ruiz,  the  faithful  servant,  stole 
from  the  shadows,  while  Ruiz  tried  to  reconnoitre  and  spy 
out  where  Manrico  was  hidden.  The  Countess  was 
w^orn  with  fear  and  trouble.  While  they  stood  there, 
outside  the  prison,  the  "Miserere"  was  dolorously 
chanted.     The  sound  was  ominous. 

"They  chant  prayers  for  the  dead!"  she  whispered, 
and  then  the  bell  tolled. 

"It  is  the  bell  for  the  dead,"  she  whispered  again,  faint- 
ing with  despair.  "What  voices  of  horror.  My  God! 
death  is  very  near;"  and  she  stood  listening.  Then, 
mingling  with  the  death  chant,  the  troubadour's  glorious 
voice  floated  out  upon  the  night. 


Light me    to        ear— ly    death,   Waft  her  my 


-; — ^ 


ppp- 


t 


-v— 


long— ing,  Waft  her  my  lat  — est   breath!     I  leave- 


^ 


ifc=t 


f-  r- 


hF* 


m 


m 


thee,    Leo  —  no — ra,    ah,        I  leave 


theel 


It  was  the  doomed  Manrico  singing,  from  his  prison, 
while  waiting,  wearily,  for  the  dawn. 

It  was  a  feariul  hour:  The  death  song!  The  bell  for 
the  dead,  the  lonely  troubadour's  voice,  and  prayer 
for  the  dead,  sounding  through  the  night. 

As  Leonora  listened,  her  anguish  became  too  great  to 
bear,  and  she  resolved  to  save  his  life  or  die.  Then  di 
Luna  came,  accompanied  by  his  men;  he  was  giving 
hurried  orders: 

"The  moment  the  day  dawns,  bring  out  the  man,  and 
here,  on  this  spot,  cut  off  his  head,"  he  commanded.  The 
attendants  entered  the  prison  tower,  and  di  Luna,  believ- 
ing himself  to  be  alone,  began  to  sing  passionately  of 
Leonora.  He  thought  her  dead  in  the  ruins  of  Castellar, 
which  his  soldiers  had  demolished.  While  cursing  his 
fate,  Leonora  came  near  to  him  and  threw  herself  at  his 
feet. 

"Thou  art  not  dead  I"  he  cried. 


284  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Nay  —  but  I  shall  die  unless  you  give  me  Manrico's 
life,"  she  murmured  pleadingly. 

"He  dies  at  dawn,"  di  Luna  answered. 

"Spare  him  and  I  will  wed  thee,"  she  swore.  At  that 
di  Luna  regarded  her  in  amazement. 

"You  speak  the  truth?"  he  demanded,  scarcely  daring 
to  believe  his  senses. 

"Unbar  those  gates;  let  me  into  his  dungeon  and  take 
him  word  that  he  is  free,  and  I  swear  to  be  thy  wife,"  she 
repeated. 

"Hola!  You  there!"  He  called  to  his  men.  "Show 
this  woman  to  Manrico's  dungeon,"  he  commanded, 
trembHng  with  joy.  Unseen  by  him,  she  took  a  deadly 
poison  from  her  ring.  She  would  free  Manrico  with  her 
promise,  and  before  di  Luna  could  reach  her  she  resolved 
to  die.  The  men  stood  ready,  and  she  went  into  the 
prison  with  them. 

Scene  II 

In  the  gloomy  tower  a  lamp  swung  from  the  ceiling  by 
a  chain,  casting  a  dim  uncertain  light  upon  Azucena, 
whom  Manrico  had  saved  from  the  flames,  but  who  had 
been  imprisoned  with  him,  and  was  presently  to  be 
killed  also.  She  was  lying  on  a  low  bed  with  Manrico 
beside  her,  and  in  her  half-waking  dream  anticipated  the 
scorching  of  the  flame,  which  was  soon  to  be  lighted  about 
her.     She  cried  out  pitifully. 

"Art  thou  waking,  mother?" 

"This  fearful  dungeon,  my  son!  It  is  a  living  tomb. 
But  they  shall  not  torture  me:  I  am  already  dying.  I 
shall  be  dead  before  they  come  to  drag  me  to  the  stake." 

Manrico  tried  to  soothe  her  to  sleep,  saying  that  he 
would  guard  her;  and  gradually  the  poor  wretch  slept. 


II  Trovatore  285 

As  she  did  so,  Leonora  slipped  into  the  room,  through 
the  door  unbarred  for  her  at  di  Luna's  order. 

"Leonora!    I  am  dreaming,"  Manrico  muttered. 

"Nay,  it  is  I.  I  have  come  to  save  thee.  Do  not 
waste  a  moment.     Go!" 

"Without  thee  —  never!  What  have  you  done?  How 
have  you  purchased  my  freedom?"  he  demanded,  shrewd- 
ly. "It  was  by  promising  to  be  di  Lima's  wife,"  he  cried. 
"Before  that  can  be,  I  will  kill  thee  and  myself."  He 
covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  He  was  in  despair, 
and  Leonora  did  not  at  first  tell  him  that  she  was  already 
dying. 

"Go  while  there  is  time,"  she  pleaded,  feeling  the 
poison  in  her  veins. 

Manrico  saw  her  stagger  and  grow  faint.  "We  shall 
not  part,"  he  whispered,  as  she  fell  at  his  feet!  "We  shall 
not  part."     He  lifted  her  up,  but  she  was  already  dying. 

"Fly  before  di  Luna  discovers  that  I  have  cheated  him," 
but  Manrico  still  held  the  dying  Leonora  to  his  breast, 
and  at  that  moment  the  Count  entered. 

"I  have  cheated  him,"  she  murmured.  "I  am  dying." 
Hearing  this  the  Count  made  an  outcry  and  his  guards 
rushed  in. 

"Away  with  him!"  he  shouted,  pointing  to  Manrico; 
and  Manrico  was  torn  from  Leonora,  as  she  sank  back 
dead.  He  was  bound  and  hustled  out,  while  Azucena 
was  awakened  by  the  confused  sounds.  She  sat  up  and 
called  desperately: 

"Manrico!"  Finding  him  gone  and  seeing  di  Luna, 
"Where  hast  thou  taken  him?"  she  screamed,  tearing 
her  gray  hair. 

"See  — "  and  di  Luna  dragged  her  to  the  barred  win- 
dow.    "See!    The  knife  falls  —  look  upon  the  sight,  old 


286 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


fiend."  She  saw  Manrico's  head  struck  from  his  shoul- 
ders as  the  day  dawned.  With  a  frightful  shriek  she  cried: 
"Mother,  I  am  avenged!  Fiend!  he  was  thy  brother!" 
Di  Lima  looked  first  at  the  dying  gipsy,  then  at  the  horrid 
scene  below,  and  staggered  back,  unable  to  speak  his 
brother's  name.    His  peace  was  destroyed  forever. 

AIDA 

CHARACTERS  OF  THE  OPERA,  WITH  THE  ORIGINAL  CASTS  AS  PRESENTED 
AT   THE   FIRST  PERFORMANCES 


Alda. 

Amneris  . 

Radames 

Amonasro 

Ramphis 

The  King 

Messenger 


CAIRO 

Signora  Pozzoni . 

Grossi  . 

Signor  Mongini 

Steller 

Medini         .  2]_  • 

Costa  . 

Bottardi 


MILAN 

Signora  Stoltz 

Waldmann 

Signor  Fancelli 

Pandolfini 

Maini 

Pavoleri 

Mstarini 


Priests,  priestesses,  ministers,  captains,  soldiers,  officials,  Ethio- 
pian slaves,  prisoners,  Egyptian  populace,  etc.,  etc. 

The  time  of  the  story  is  when  the  Pharaohs  were  puissant,  and  the 
scenes  are  laid  in  the  cities  of  Thebes  and  Memphis. 

Composer:  Giuseppe  Verdi. 
Author;  A.  Ghislanzoni. 

The  opera  was  first  sung  at  Cairo,  Egypt,  December  27,  i87i;at 
Milan,  February  8,  1872. 


ACT  I 


All  Egypt  was  troubled  with  wars  and  rumours  of  wars, 
and  in  Memphis  the  court  of  the  King  was  anxiously 
awaiting  the  decision  of  the  Goddess  Isis,  as  to  who  should 
lead  the  Egyptian  army  against  Egypt's  enemies.  The 
great  hall  of  the  Memphis  palace  was  beautifully  orna- 
mented with  statues  and  flowers,  and  from  its  colonnades 


Atda 


287 


of  white  marble  one  could  see  the  pyramids  and  the  pal- 
aces of  the  city.  It  was  in  this  vast  and  beautiful  hall  that 
Radames,  a  gallant  soldier  and  favourite  of  the  Egyptian 
court,  met  Ramphis,  the  High  Priest,  on  the  day  when 
the  Oracle,  Isis,  was  to  choose  the  general  of  the  army. 

Isis  had  already  spoken,  and  Ramphis  knew  it,  but  he 
did  not  tell  Radames.  Together  they  spoke  of  Radames's 
loyal  wish  to  serve  his  people,  either  as  a  great  general 
or  as  a  soldier.  He  was  too  modest  to  think  that  Isis 
would  choose  him,  out  of  all  the  worthy  men  of  the  army, 
to  lead  the  hosts  of  Egypt.  His  desire  to  do  valorous 
deeds  was  inspired  by  his  love  for  a  slave  girl,  who  attend- 
ed the  Princess  Amneris.  The  slave's  name  was  Aida. 
The  only  thing  that  saddened  him  at  the  moment,  was  the 
fact  of  Aida  being  an  Ethiopian,  for  it  was  the  Ethiopians 
whom  the  Egyptians  were  about  to  war  against. 

After  he  had  spoken  with  the  Priests,  Radames  sat 
down  alone,  in  the  hall,  and  fell  to  thinking  of  Aida. 
Presently  he  sang  of  her  loveliness: 


Andantino 
con  express. 


bloom— ing         and      bright;  Queen ly    thou 


288 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


^ 


-• f> 


reign — est         o'er    me  trans — cen— dent,  Bathing  my 


^ 


spir  —  it         in        beau  —  ty's      light. 


Aida  could  not  be  happy  in  an  alien  land,  serving  the 
daughter  of  the  King  who  had  been  the  conqueror  of  her 
people,  and  Radames  knew  this;  but  what  he  didn't  know 
was  that  the  Princess,  herself,  loved  him,  and  therefore 
that  her  jealousy  might  do  Aiida  much  harm.  While  he 
was  thus  sunk  in  deep  reflection,  Amneris,  the  Princess, 
entered  the  hall,  attended  by  her  slave.  Radames  no 
sooner  looked  at  Aida  than  his  love  could  be  seen  by  any 
one  present.  He  was  so  sincere  and  honest  that  he  could 
not  conceal  his  feelings. 

"Ah,  Radames,  you  are  very  happy  to-day!  Some- 
thing has  happened  to  please  you !  Are  you  not  going  to 
tell  me?"  Amneris  asked,  smiling  happily  at  him. 

"Nay,  Princess,"  he  answered.  "I  am  not  more  hap- 
py than  before,  only  I  am  thinking  of  this  war  that  is 
about  to  be,  and  how  I  should  love  to  do  some  valiant 
deed  —  for  us  all,"  he  added  as  an  after-thought,  but 
Amneris  surprised  the  look  of  tenderness  that  he  gave 
to  Aida.  From  that  moment  she  watched  the  lovers 
closely. 

"To-day  the  Goddess  is  to  decide  who  shall  lead  the 
Egyptians  against  the  Ethiops;  I  would  it  were  to  be  I," 
he  sighed.     Amneris  flushed  with  anger,  as  she  again 


Aida  289 

saw  a  look  of  devotion  pass  between  the  slave-girl  and 
Radames,  the  darling  of  the  court.  Still,  she  pretended 
to  be  unsuspicious. 

"Is  there  nothing  to  attract  you  in  Memphis,  that  you 
wish  to  be  oflF  to  the  war?"  she  asked,  narrowly  observ- 
ing him.  Radames,  so  sensitive  and  so  much  in  love, 
saw  that  he  had  betrayed  his  love  for  Aida.  All  three 
became  ill  at  ease,  but  the  Princess  called  the  slave  girl 
to  her,  pretending  great  affection  for  her,  and  said: 

"Why  do  you  weep,  Aida?  Neither  you  nor  Radames 
seem  to  be  happy  to-day." 

"Ah,  Princess,  I  weep  because  of  this  war  rumour.  I 
have  known  the  sadness  and  terror  of  war,  and  the  thought 
of  asssembled  war-hosts  gives  me  pain.  It  means  ruin 
and  despair  to  so  many." 

"That  is  the  only  the  reason  for  your  tears?"  she  per- 
sisted, trying  to  hide  her  anger,  but  her  glances  belied 
the  softness  of  her  tone.  Radames,  noting  this,  trembled 
for  Aida.  Even  the  life  of  the  girl  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  Princess,  and  Radames  knew  it. 

"Ah,  my  love,  you  are  weeping  for  something  besides 
a  nation,  and  your  blush  betrays  you,"  Amneris  answered, 
gently  enough,  but  in  her  heart  she  determined  to  punish 
the  helpless  girl.  As  the  scene  became  more  and  more 
painful,  trumpets,  which  always  preceded  the  King's 
coming,  were  heard  near  at  hand,  and  in  he  came,  sur- 
rounded by  guards,  ministers,  priests,  and  officers;  a 
brilliant  company,  making  a  brilliant  picture. 

"Greeting!"  he  cried,  "it  is  a  mighty  cause  which 
brings  us  here  together.  A  messenger  has  this  moment 
arrived  among  us  with  news  of  great  import.  I  need  the 
support  of  all  the  gallant  men  of  my  kingdom.  Now, 
messenger,  come  before  us,  if  thou  wilt,  and  tell  thy  news," 


290  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

the  King  cried  in  a  fine  and  haughty  manner,  motioning 
the  messenger  before  him. 

"I  came  to  tell  thee,  Sire,  that  Egypt  is  invaded  by 
Ethiop's  King,  and  all  her  border  lands  are  laid  waste. 
Our  crops  are  destroyed,  great  havoc  hath  been  wrought, 
and  unless  thou  shouldst  send  an  army  to  resist  the  in- 
vading hosts,  we  are  lost." 

"Ah,  the  presumptuous  bandit!"  the  King  cried,  thus 
regarding  his  brother  ruler,  and  it  is  probable  that  the 
King  of  Ethiopia  did  not  feel  more  temperately  toward 
the  King  of  the  Egyptians. 

"By  whom  are  the  Ethiopians  led?"  the  King  asked. 

"By  one  Amonasro  —  a  warrior  who  hath  never  been 
conquered." 

"What?  the  Ethiopian  King,  himself,"  all  cried,  be- 
cause that  was  news  with  a  vengeance.  Amonasro  was 
known  to  be  an  invincible  warrior,  and,  if  he  was  going  to 
take  the  field  in  person,  Egypt  had  indeed  something  to 
fear.     At  the  name,  Ai'da  started. 

"Amonasro!"  she  began  to  cry,  but  checked  herself. 
Amonasro  was  her  beloved  father!  Since  she  was  al- 
ready a  slave,  her  life  would  be  in  danger  if  it  were  known 
that  the  Ethiopian  King  was  her  father.  She  leaned, 
almost  fainting,  against  the  Princess's  throne,  and  in 
the  excitement  her  agitation  passed  unnoticed.  The 
messenger  continued  to  speak: 

"  All  Thebes  has  risen  and  sallied  forth  to  check  this 
foe." 

"Death  and  battle,  be  our  cry!"  the  King  shouted; 
and  all  his  nobles  took  up  the  war-cry:  "Death  and  bat- 
tle, death  and  battle!" 

"War,  war,  war!  fierce  and  unrelenting,"  cried  Rada- 
mes,  loudest  of  all,  his  war  spirit  and  love  of  country  both 


Aida  291 

aroused.  At  his  cry  all  became  still,  and  the  King  looked 
at  him  with  great  affection. 

"Egyptians,  warriors,  hear!  the  chief  to  lead  our  hosts 
against  this  bold  invader  has  this  day  been  named  by  the 
Goddess  Isis."  Every  one  leaned  breathlessly  forward. 
Many  a  brave  fellow  hoped  the  choice  had  fallen  upon 
him.  None  listened  more  eagerly  than  the  Princess 
and  Aida. 

"There  is  the  choice!"  the  King  continued,  pointing 
to  Radames.  A  moment  of  silence  followed,  then  Rada- 
mes  shouted: 

"Ah!  ye  Gods!  I  thank  thee!  My  dearest  wish  is 
mine."  All  the  court  and  soldiers  burst  into  shouts  of 
joy  and  confidence. 

"Now  to  the  Temple  of  Vulcan,  Chieftain,  and  there 
equip  yourself  and  men  for  victory,"  the  King  cried,  and 
all  prepared  to  follow  Radames. 

"Take  the  war-standard  from  my  hand,  Radames," 
Amneris  said,  smiling  at  him  with  affection:  but  Aida 
murmured  unheard: 

"Whom  shall  I  weep  for,  my  lover  or  my  father?" 
Her  heart  was  breaking,  for  the  defeat  of  either  her  father 
or  her  lo\'er  would  be  a  disaster  to  one  so  tender  as 
she. 

"Battle,  battle,"  all  cried  excitedly,  all  certain  of  vic- 
tory at  the  hands  of  their  beloved  leader,  Radames. 
"May  laurels  crown  thy  brow!"  they  shouted,  following 
him  to  the  temple,  where  they  were  to  don  their  armour, 
feel  if  their  swords  were  sharp,  and  pray  for  success, 

"Aye,  may  laurels  crown  thee,"  Aida  murmured.  "I 
cannot  wish  thee  ruin,  yet  what  a  wicked  wish,  since  vic- 
tory must  mean  my  father's  loss.  If  Radames  shall 
conquer,  I  may  see  my  father  brought  here  in   chains." 


292  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

The  unhappy  girl  prayed  in  turn  for   her  father  and 
Radames. 

Scene  II 

When  the  men  entered  the  Temple  of  Vulcan,  a  mys- 
terious light  came  into  the  temple  from  above  and  long 
rows  of  columns  could  be  seen,  placed  one  behind  the 
other,  while  statues  stood  between.  The  long  rows  of 
columns  were  lost  in  the  dim  distance.  In  the  middle  of 
the  temple  was  placed  a  high  altar,  and  all  the  scene  was 
wrapped  in  the  haze  of  incense  which  arose  from  golden 
bowls.  The  High  Priestess  sang  a  song  of  mystic  beauty 
in  which  the  High  Priest  and  others  joined,  and  then  the 
Priestesses  danced  to  an  exquisite  measure. 

While  this  beautiful  thing  was  happening,  Radames 
entered,  all  unarmed,  and  went  to  the  altar.  There 
the  gallant  chief  offered  prayers  for  strength  and  victory. 

A  fine  silver  veil  was  placed  upon  his  head,  to  show  that 
he  was  favoured  of  the  Gods  and  chosen  by  them. 

The  weapons,  those  of  the  Temple,  given  him  were  tem- 
pered by  an  immortal  hand  and  were  to  bring  him  suc- 
cess forever  in  all  battles. 

While  he  knelt  there  before  the  God  of  War,  all  the 
sacred  men  and  women  of  Vulcan's  Temple  joined  in 
praise  and  in  prayers  for  his  safe  return.  The  chorus 
swelled  higher  and  higher,  till  at  last  in  one  mighty  volume 
of  glorious  sound  their  invocations  were  completed,  and 
Radames  departed  for  war. 

ACT  n 

The  return  of  the  Egyptian  troops  was  hourly  expected; 
all  Thebes  was  preparing  to  receive  them  with  honours 


Atda  293 

and  rejoicing;  and  great  fetes  were  arranged  for  their 
amusement.  Amneris  was  in  her  apartment,  surrounded 
by  her  attendants.  Slave-girls  waved  feather  fans, 
others  were  hanging  beautiful  jewels  upon  her  and 
anointing  her  with  rare  perfumes,  all  being  done  to  pre- 
pare her  for  the  celebration  of  Radames's  return.  The  air 
was  full  of  incense  which  rose  from  beautiful  metal  bowls 
placed  on  tripods  about  her  chamber,  and  she,  herself, 
was  waiting  impatiently  for  news  that  Radames  and  his 
men  were  in  sight  of  Thebes. 

The  Egyptian  King  had  decided  to  reward  Radames 
for  his  victories  by  gi\'ing  him  his  daughter  for  a  wife, 
but  all  the  while  Amneris  was  disturbed  and  devoured 
by  jealousy  for  she  believed  that  Radames  and  Aida 
loved,  though  she  could  not  be  certain.  She  had  thought 
and  thought  of  this,  till  she  could  not  rest  longer  without 
some  proof,  and  after  her  slaves  had  danced  awhile  for 
her  amusement,  to  make  the  time  waiting  for  the  fetes 
pass  more  quickly,  the  Princess  dismissed  all  but  Aida. 
Then  she  said  to  her: 

"Ah,  Ai'da,  my  heart  goes  out  to  thee  in  this  affliction  — 
because  thy  people  have  been  beaten  in  this  fearful  war, 
and  so  many  taken  captive."  Her  voice  was  very  soft 
and  affectionate,  and  she  sighed,  seeming  to  be  deeply 
moved.  "  But  I  mean  to  make  thee  as  happy  as  I  may, 
and " 

"Princess,  far  from  my  home,  my  father's  fate  un- 
certain, what  happiness  is  there  in  this  world  for 
me?" 

"Time  will  bring  thee  comfort,  Aida;  thou  shalt  be  as 
my  sister;  and  then  this  return  of  our  brave  men  —  alas! 
that  the  bravest  of  them  all  may  not  return  to  us."  She 
seemed  about  to  weep,  and  Aida  looked  at  her  anxiously. 


294  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"The  bravest?"  she  faltered;  "that  can  mean  but  one"; 
and  she  became  pale  with  fear  and  apprehension. 

"Aye  —  our  brave  Radames!  He  fell  in  battle;  have 
you  not  heard?"  While  the  Princess  was  speaking, 
Aida  clasped  her  hands  wildly  and  cried  out.  Thus,  she 
betrayed  instantly  all  her  love  for  Radames,  and  Amneris 
was  no  longer  in  doubt. 

"So,  you  love  him?"  she  cried.  "That  was  what  I 
wished  to  know.  Now  let  me  tell  thee  that  he  lives  and 
is  returning  with  honours  —  but  not  for  thee.  If  you 
love  him,  so  do  I.  What  chance  has  one  like  you  —  a 
slave  —  beside  a  princess  like  me?  I  feel  nothing  but 
hate  now  for  you,  and  from  this  moment  you  shall  know 
all  the  humility  of  a  slave.  Since  you  have  dared  to 
love  Radames,  I  shall  be  revenged." 

"Not  upon  him,  madame.  I  care  not  what  my  fate 
is,  if  he  be  happy.  Surely  you  can  spare  a  sad  and 
despairing  heart?  I  am  poor  and  far  from  friends  and 
country.  My  father  is  ruined,  since  he  too  was  a  soldier, 
and  may  even  now  be  a  captive.  Can  you  wish  me  greater 
ill  than  this.  Princess?" 

"I  wish  thee  every  ill.  Come,  now,  while  I  exhibit 
thee  before  Radames  and  all  the  court  as  my  slave  and 
servant.     You  shall  see  me  triumph." 

"I  have  no  hope,  "  Aida  answered,  bowing  her  head, 
"but  I  have  not  harmed  thee."  The  sound  of  a  trumpet 
was  heard,  and  outside  the  people  shouted: 

"The  troops!    They  come!    They  are  here!" 

Scene  II 

Down  an  avenue  lined  with  palms  and  with  the  Temple 
of  Ammon  to  be  seen  near  by,  the  people  went.    There 


Atda  295 

was  a  stately  throne  with  a  purple  and  gold  canopy,  and 
a  vast,  triumphal  arch  under  which  the  returning  heroes 
were  to  come.  The  trumpets  sounded  louder  and  nearer 
and  the  music  became  martial  and  triumphant. 

First  came  the  King  of  Egypt  and  his  High  Priest  and 
standard-bearers  and  fan-bearers;  then  followed  Amneris 
with  ^Vida  and  her  other  slaves.  The  King  sat  upon  his 
throne  and  the  Princess  beside  him,  while  all  assembled 
were  vibrating  with  excitement  and  pleasure. 

Presently  all  burst  into  a  loud  song  of  celebration  and 
rejoicing,  and  then  the  troops  began  to  enter  in  procession. 
Trumpets  sounded  and  one  rank  after  another  defiled 
before  the  King.  There  came  more,  more,  more,  covered 
with  the  glory  of  victory;  all  glittering  in  their  armour 
and  helmets,  and  their  swords  glancing.  Then  came  the 
dancing  girls  laden  with  jewels  and  golden  ornaments, 
and  the  fine  spoils  of  war,  brought  by  the  soldiers.  Then 
came  the  war-chariots,  and  banners  borne  aloft,  and  im- 
ages of  gods,  and  last  and  greatest  came  Radames. 

The  King  descended  from  his  throne  to  embrace 
him,  the  soldiers  and  people  shouted  his  triumphs,  and 
Radames  knelt  before  Amneris  to  receive  the  crown  of 
victory  from  her  hands. 

"Ask  anything  thou  wilt  and  I  will  give  it  thee,"  she 
cried  joyfully. 

"First,  Princess,  order  the  captives  of  war  brought 
before  thee,"  Radames  asked. 

"The  prisoners!"  she  called,  and  the  Ethiopians  en- 
tered surrounded  by  the  guard,  and  among  them  marched 
a  splendid  figure  dressed  in  an  officer's  uniform."  Now 
this  man's  rank  was  quite  unknown  to  Radames  or  to 
any  one,  but  he  was  really  the  King  of  Ethiopia,  himself, 
and  ;\Ida's  father.     She  gave  a  cry  upon  seeing  him,  but 


296  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Amonasro  looked  at  her  with  a  commanding,  if  agonized, 
glance,  and  spoke  quickly: 

"Yes,  I  am  thy  father,"  he  answered  cleverly,  "and  have 
fought  and  sought  death  in  vain.  My  garment,"  pointing 
to  his  officer's  dress,  "tells  that  I  fought  for  my  King. 
The  King  is  dead,"  he  said  impressively,  looking  at  Aida 
with  meaning;  "I  would  that  I  were  dead,  too,  my  child. 
But  thou,  great  King  of  Egypt,"  he  continued,  turning 
to  him,  "hast  conquered,  and  so  I  pray  you  spare  the 
lives  of  my  soldiers.  Thou  canst  generously  do  so  much 
for  us."  At  this,  Aida  understanding  that  she  must  not 
let  it  be  known  that  the  Kang  himself  was  a  prisoner, 
added  her  entreaties  to  Amonasro's. 

"Nay,  ye  must  face  the  fortune  of  war.  Death  is  thy 
portion,"  the  King  answered.  Then  Aida's  grief  became 
pitiful,  and  Radames,  who  was  watching  her  lovingly, 
was  sorrowful  on  her  account.  While  all  others  clamoured 
for  the  death  of  the  Ethiopians,  Radames  stepped  forth 
and  asked  the  King  to  hear  him. 

"My  King,  thou  hast  said  that  I  should  have  what- 
ever I  would  ask  of  thee." 

"True!     Ask!" 

"  Then  give  these  captives  their  freedom.  Their  coun- 
try is  conquered.  Oh,  King!  Do  not  take  their  lives," 
and  he  looked  quickly  at  Aida,  to  inspire  her  with  hope. 

The  King  thought  upon  this  for  a  moment,  and  was 
inclined  to  grant  the  plea,  but  Ramphis  and  the  other 
priests  clamoured  for  their  death. 

"At  least  keep  this  girl's  father  as  a  surety,"  they 
persisted. 

"It  shall  be  so,"  the  King  answered.  "Aida's  father 
shall  remain  our  prisoner;  and  since  I  cannot  grant  your 
request,  Radames,  yet  love  thee  so  for  thy  valour,  I  give 


Atda  297 

thee  instead  the  greatest  prize  within  man's  gift;  my 
daughter,  Amneris." 

Alas!  The  King  could  not  well  have  done  worse  had 
he  tried.  If  his  gift  was  most  distracting  to  the  lovers, 
Amneris  was  overwhelmed  with  delight,  ready  to  weep 
with  joy  and  pride. 

"You  shall  reign  with  her,"  the  King  added,  but 
Radames  could  not  speak,  so  overcome  was  he  with 
his  misfortune.  All  assumed  his  silence  to  mean  an 
overmastering  joy  at  the  honour  bestowed  upon  him, 

Aida,  nearly  fainting  with  pain  to  see  her  father  a 
captive,  andher  lover  givento  another  who  was  her  enemy, 
stared  motionless  before  her,  but  Amonasro  had  observed 
everything,  had  seen  Radames's  glances  at  Aida,  the  dis- 
traction of  the  lovers,  and  suddenly,  under  his  breath  to 
Aida,  he  said: 

''Have  courage.  I  will  give  thee  thy  revenge,  daughter. 
Together  we  shall  conquer."  Radames  roused  himself 
and  knelt  before  the  Princess. 

ACT   III 

The  eve  before  her  marriage  it  was  proper  for  Amneris 
to  go  to  the  Temple  of  Isis  to  pray.  She  went  accom- 
panied by  Ramphis,  the  High  Priest,  who  promised  to 
remain  near  till  morning,  that  she  might  feel  safe,  and 
not  be  lonely.  She  knew  well  that  Radames's  heart  was 
then  Aida's,  and  her  prayers  were  to  be  appeals  for  his 
love.  The  Temple  was  built  upon  a  high  rock,  surround- 
ed by  beautiful  palms,  and  the  moon,  which  shone  bright- 
ly upon  it,  silvered  all  the  landscape.  As  Amneris  entered 
the  Temple,  the  chorus  of  priests  and  priestesses  swelled 
forth  and  added  to  the  weirdness  of  the  scene. 


298  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Amneris  had  no  sooner  disappeared  within  than  Aida 
approached  the  place.  It  was  the  last  night  of  Radames's 
freedom,  and  he  and  she  had  arranged  to  meet  near  the 
Temple  to  speak  together,  perhaps  for  the  last  time  of 
their  lives.  As  she  entered  the  grove  she  looked  sadly 
about  her. 

*'  My  griefs  and  misfortunes  are  now  greater  than  I  can 
bear,"  she  murmured.  "After  to-night,  all  will  be  over. 
It  is  better  to  drown  myself  in  the  Nile  than  to  live  alone, 
without  father,  mother,  country,  or  friends."  Thinking 
of  her  lost  country,  she  leaned  against  the  rock  and  half 
forgot  why  she  had  come.  She  recalled  the  warmth  and 
beauty  of  her  childhood's  home,  and  then  by  contrast 
her  term  of  slavery  in  Egypt.  While  she  waited,  think- 
ing of  these  sad  things,  she  saw  a  man's  form  coming 
toward  her,  through  the  night;  it  was  not  Radames.  As 
he  drew  nearer  she  recognized  her  father,  Amonasro. 

"Father,  what  brings  thee  here?"  she  wliispered. 

"A  grave  cause,  my  child.  Naught  escapes  my  eye.  I 
know  thy  heart.  I  know  that  Radames  loves  thee  and 
that  thou  art  here  to  meet  him;  —  also  that  thou  art  in 
the  grasp  of  this  Princess,  who  hates  thee." 

"Alas,  there  is  no  hope,"  she  cried,  despairingly. 

"That  shall  be  as  you  may  decide,  daughter.  Our 
people  are  waiting  for  a  signal  to  strike  a  blow  at  these 
Egyptians.  Our  backbone  is  not  yet  broken.  All  that 
is  needful  for  our  success  is  to  know  by  what  road  our 
enemies  will  march  in  their  next  sortie  upon  us.  That  is 
for  thee  to  find  out  for  us.  Radames  alone  knows  — 
and  Radames  loves  thee,"  he  finished  significantly. 

"But  since  he  loves  me,  how  can  I  betray  him,  father?" 
she  asked. 

"  Choose  —  between  thy  father  and  the  man  who  is  to 


Aida  299 

marry  Amneris.  —  Or  —  "  with  a  new  thought  he  hesi- 
tated a  moment  —  "or  why  should  Radames  not  leave 
these  cold  people  for  a  fairer  place  and  kinder?  Why 
should  he  not  become  one  of  us?"  Aida  stared  at  her 
father  in  amazement. 

"Betray  his  people?" 

"Why  not?  Since  he  loves  thee,  shall  not  thy  people 
become  his  people,  even  as  thou  wouldst  have  made  his 
people  thine,  hadst  thou  been  wedding  him.  Choose 
between  us,  child." 

Amonasro  looked  at  her  menacingly.  "Unless  thou 
doest  this,  it  means  the  destruction  of  thy  people  and 
of  me;  and,  too,  thou  must  live  and  die  the  hated 
bond-maiden  of  this  cruel  woman  Radames  is  about  to 
marry." 

"Radames  is  coming,"  she  whispered  in  affright. 
"What  shall  I  do?" 

"Thy  duty  to  me  and  to  thy  people  and  to  thyself. 
Make  Radames  join  us.  I  shall  wait  near  thee."  So 
saying,  he  stepped  within  the  shadow  of  the  trees  as 
Radames  approached. 

"Art  thou  there,  Aida?"  Radames  called  softly. 

"Alas,  why  should  I  meet  thee,"  she  sobbed,  "since 
thou  wilt  marry  Amneris  to-morrow?" 

"Aida,  I  have  come  to  tell  thee  there  is  hope,"  Rada- 
mes  whispered,  trembling  with  happiness.  "The  Ethio- 
pians have  again  risen  against  us.  I  am  immediate!}' 
to  go  forth  to  battle.  I  shall  crush  them  this  time,  and 
on  my  return  the  King  will  once  more  be  generous  to  mc, 
and  I  shall  demand  then,  that  for  my  reward  he  free  me 
from  Amneris  and  give  me  thee  for  my  wife.  When  I 
have  twice  saved  his  kingdom,  he  cannot  refuse  me." 

"But  do  you  not  see  that  though  the  King    should 


30O  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

favour  us,  yet  Amneris's  rage  would  be  beyond  all 
bounds?  " 

"I  would  defend  thee." 

"Thou  couldst  not.  She  is  nearly  as  powerful  as  the 
King.     If  you  slight  her  we  are  lost." 

"Alas,  then,  what  can  I  do?" 

"But  one  thing  can  save  us  —  all  of  us  —  my  father, 
you,  I." 

"Name  it,"  he  cried. 

"You  would  not  listen  to  me,"  she  sobbed,  wringing 
her  hands  in  despair. 

"I  will  do  whatever  you  desire,"  he  cried  recklessly. 

"Then  make  my  people  thy  people.  Fly  with  us. 
Even  now  the  Ethiopians  are  without  the  gates  ready  for 
battle.     Join  them,  lead  them,  and " 

"A  traitor  to  my  country!"  he  cried,  stricken  with 
horror  at  the  thought. 

"Then  there  is  no  hope.  The  Princess  will  drive  us  to 
death  and  despair."  She  drew  a  picture  that  brought  it 
all  vividly  into  Radames's  mind.  At  last  with  breaking 
heart  he  cried: 

"I  will  go  with  thee  —  making  thy  people  my  people," 
and  he  started  to  leave  the  Temple  with  her. 

"What  path  shall  we  take  to  avoid  the  Egyptian  sol- 
diers? "  she  questioned  wildly. 

"We  may  go  by  the  same  path  that  the  army  will  take: 
the  gorges  of  Napata:  the  way  will  be  free  till  to-morrow." 
That  was  how  Aida  discovered  the  way  the  Egyptians 
would  take,  while  her  father  listened. 

"Ah!  I  will  post  my  men  there,"  Amonasro  cried, 
stepping  forth  into  the  moonlight,  that  Radames  might 
see  him. 

"Who  has  heard?  "  Radames  said,  with  a  start. 


Atda  301 

"Amonasro,  Aida's  father,  King  of  Ethiopia,"  he 
answered,  proudly  facing  Radames. 

"Thou  —  thou  art  the  King  —  Amonasro  —  Aida  thy 
daughter!  Do  I  dream?  I  have  betrayed  my  people  to 
thee!"  He  suddenly  realized  all  that  he  had  done,  in 
wavering  between  love  and  duty. 

"No,  thy  people  are  the  people  of  Aida.  The  throne 
is  thine,  to  share  with  her." 

"My  name  will  be  forever  branded  —  a  coward!" 
He  groaned  in  despair. 

"No  blame  to  thee,  son.  It  was  thy  fate;  and  with  us 
thou  wilt  be  far  from  these  scenes  that  try  thy  heart:  far 
away  where  none  can  reproach  thee."  But  Radames 
knew  that  he  had  better  die  than  live,  knowing  himself 
for  a  traitor.  He  determined  that  he  would  not  go;  that 
he  would  remain  and  undo  the  wrong  that  he  had  blindly 
done,  but  even  then  Aida  was  trying  to  drag  him 
away,  and  urging  him  with  each  loving  breath  to  fly  with 
them.  As  he  would  have  broken  away  from  her,  Amneris, 
who  had  heard  all,  ran  from  the  Temple,  crying, 
"  Traitor  !  " 

"  Destruction  !  She  would  undo  us,"  Amonasro 
shouted,  and  as  the  people  began  to  pour  from  the 
Temple,  he  sprang  forward  and  would  have  plunged  his 
sword  through  her  had  Radames  not  sprung  between 
them. 

"Thou  art  a  madman,"  he  shouted,  horrified  at  the  deed 
Amonasro  would  have  done.  Meantime  all  was  confu- 
sion. People  shouted  for  the  guard,  and  Radames  cried 
to  Aida: 

"Fly  with  thy  father.  Fly  or  thou  art  lost."  His 
voice  was  so  full  of  agony  for  her  that  she  suddenly 
turned  and  fled. 


302  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Follow  them,"  Ramphis  demanded  of  the  soldiers, 
while  Radames  said  hopelessly: 
"Ramphis,  I  yield  to  thee." 

ACT  rv 

There  was  no  joy  in  the  court,  and  Amneris  sat  in  the 
vast  hall  of  the  palace  between  Radames's  prison,  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  hall  of  justice  on  the  other,  where  the 
trial  of  the  gallant  soldier  was  soon  to  be  held.  He  was 
LQ  prison,  and  Aida  and  her  father  were  far  away.  Am- 
neris still  loved  him,  and  hoped  yet  to  save  him,  and  thus 
to  win  his  love.  Presently  she  called  to  the  guard  to 
bring  him  before  her,  and  almost  at  once  he  was  brought 
through  the  hall  accompanied  by  the  priests  who  were 
to  try  him  in  the  undergroimd  dungeon. 

"Radames,  the  priests  who  are  to  judge  thee  are  assem- 
bled. Consent  to  clear  thyself.  Say  that  thou  didst 
not  mean  to  betray  us  and  I,  myself,  will  kneel  to  the 
King,  and  promise  you  your  freedom.  I  would  give  my 
life  and  power  and  country  for  thee,"  Amneris  pleaded, 
as  he  passed  before  her. 

"I  would  give  no  less  for  Aida,"  Radames  declared 
sadly.  "I  shall  not  try  to  save  myself.  I  shall  say  noth- 
ing in  my  own  defense.     I  msh  to  die." 

At  the  mention  of  Aida,  Amneris  was  enraged. 

"I'll  hear  no  more  of  her!"  she  cried. 

"Ah,  you  have  killed  her " 

"No!  Her  father  is  slain,  but  she  lives.  She  has 
vanished  —  no  one  knows  where!" 

"Then  may  the  gods  guide  her  safe  to  her  home  and 
country,  and  keep  her  from  knowing  how  I  die." 

"If  you  will  swear  to  see  her  no  more,  Radames,  I 
will  save  thee." 


Aida  303 

"If  I  were  to  live  I  should  find  her.     I  will  not  swear." 

"Then  you  shall  die.  If  you  will  not  hear  me,  I  shall 
avenge  myself,"  she  answered  bitterly,  motioning  to  the 
guards  to  take  him  away. 

Radames  was  taken  below  to  the  subterranean  hall 
which  was  to  be  his  grave  and  judgment  hall  alike,  while 
Amneris  was  left  alone,  both  grief-stricken  and  revenge- 
ful. Her  jealousy  was  certain  to  bring  fearful  retribu- 
tion upon  her.  As  more  white-robed  priests  passed  be- 
low, looking  spectral  and  ominous,  she  hid  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

"It  was  I  who  brought  him  to  this  fate,"  she  murmured, 
and  then  listened  in  anguish  to  the  chorus  of  the  priests 
which  sounded  dismally  from  below. 

Then  a  voice  called  from  the  crypt,  three  times: 

"Radames,  Radames,  Radames,"  and  it  was  his  sum- 
mons to  judgment. 

"Oh,  who  can  save  him  now?"  Amneris  murmured, 
horrified  at  what  was  taking  place. 

"Defend  thyself!"  she  heard  voices  from  below  com- 
mand.    There  was  no  answer. 

"Radames,  Radames,  Radames,"  the  High  Priest 
called  again  in  a  fearful  voice,  and  again  the  Princess 
shuddered. 

"Thou  hast  deserted  the  encampment  the  very  day 
before  the  combat  ! — defend  thyself."  She  listened,  but 
still  no  answer. 

"  Radames,  Radames,  Radames,"  again  the  High  Priest 
called,  and  for  the  third  and  last  time.     Still  no  answer. 

"Oh,  have  mercy  on  him,"  Amneris  then  cried,  her 
love  becoming  greater  than  her  desire  for  revenge.  Then 
listening  again,  slie  heard  tlie  judge  say: 

"  Radames,  thy  fate  is  decided.     It  is  to  be  the  fate  of 


304  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

a  traitor.    You  shall  be  buried  alive  beneath  the  altar 
of  the  God  of  War,  whom  thou  hast  derided  and  betrayed." 

"Oh,  horror,"  Amneris  shrieked. 

"We  have  spoken,"  the  priests  replied,  and  then 
ascended. 

"Ye  priests  of  Isis,  ye  are  tigers!  demons!"  and  the 
Princess  assailed  them  bitterly  as  they  came  into  the  hall. 
She  was  now  mad  with  grief.  Truly  loving  Radames, 
she  cursed  the  priests  and  even  the  gods.  Then  the 
scene  changed,  revealing  the  interior  of  Vulcan's  Temple 
and  the  crypt  beneath  the  altar.  There  were  spectral 
statues,  and  great  marble  columns  which  seemed  to  van- 
ish in  the  gloom,  and  all  was  gloomy  as  the  grave.  Stairs 
led  from  the  temple  above  into  the  vault,  and  Radames 
sat  down  upon  the  steps  as  the  priests  let  down  again  the 
massive  stone  that  covered  the  opening  beneath  the  altar. 
Radames  watched  the  closing  of  the  opening,  the  descent 
of  the  great  stone  into  place. 

"I  can  bear  my  fate,  since  Aida  may  never  know.  She 
could  not  survive  such  horror,"  he  said,  under  his  breath. 
The  vault,  the  ghostly  cold  about  him,  the  rows  upon 
rows  of  senseless  marble,  supported  by  the  expressionless 
stone  faces  of  the  gods,  these  things  overwhelmed  the 
great  warrior.  Then,  from  the  gloom,  he  saw  a  white 
figure  emerge.  Is  it  a  phantom?  At  first  he  thought  it 
some  fearful  vision.  But  as  he  peered  through  the 
twilight  he  recognized  —  Aida.  Perhaps  it  was  her  ghost 
come  to  comfort  him,  he  thought,  and  raised  himself  to 
stare  at  the  figure. 

"Aida!" 

"I  am  here  to  die  with  thee,"  she  answered,  and  Rada- . 
mes  clasped  her  in  his  arms.  He  had  thought  her  safe, 
unacquainted  with  his  fate,  but  she  was  there  to  share  it. 


Atda  305 

"My  heart  foreboded  thy  fearful  sentence,"  she  said. 
"I  hid  here  till  the  stone  shut  down  upon  thee,  and  now  I 
am  beside  thee  till  the  end." 

Radames  beat  wildly  upon  the  stone  above.  He  called 
for  help.  He  tried  with  his  great  strength  to  raise  the 
deadly  stone  with  his  shoulders,  only  to  sink  down,  ex- 
hausted and  horrified.  He  could  not  save  her.  The 
chorus  sung  by  priests  began  above;  Aida  was  already 
dying.  At  least  she  would  not  live  slowly  to  starve.  And 
while  Amneris  appeared  above  in  black  garments,  dying 
of  grief  for  Radames,  and  threw  herself  upon  the  stone, 
Radames  held  the  dying  Aida  in  his  arms  and  waited  for 
death. 

"Peace,"  Amneris  moaned  while  lying  prostrate  above 
on  the  altar  stone. 

"Peace,"  and  while  the  women  were  dying  and  Rada- 
mes losing  his  senses  below,  the  priests  of  Isis  chanted, 
"Peace,"  the  light  faded  out,  and  the  tragedy  ended. 


WAGNER 

RICHARD  WAGNER  was  born  in  Leipzig,  on  the 
2 2d  of  May,  1813.  His  father  was  Chief  of 
Police  and  his  mother  was  Johanna  Rosina  Bertz. 

His  brothers  and  sisters  were  distinguished  singers  or 
actors;  thus  love  of  dramatic  art  was  common  to  all  the 
family.  His  father  died  and  his  mother  married  an  actor, 
Ludwig  Geyer.  The  stepfather  became  very  fond  of 
young  Richard  and  intended  to  make  a  painter  of  him, 
but  upon  hearing  him  play  some  of  his  sister's  piano 
pieces  Geyer  wondered  if  it  were  possible  that  he  had 
the  gift  of  music! 

Wagner  was  a  poor  scholar  during  his  school  days,  the 
only  thing  he  especially  enjoyed  being  literature,  main- 
ly Shakespeare,  Sophocles,  and  ^schylus;  and  about  the 
time  the  dramatic  philosophies  of  these  men  filled  his 
attention,  he  wrote  a  great  drama  in  which  there  were 
forty-two  characters,  every  one  of  whom  was  killed  or 
died  in  the  course  of  the  play,  so  that  he  was  compelled 
to  finish  his  performance  with  the  spectres  of  his  original 
characters.  Later  he  wished  to  put  music  to  that  re- 
markable drama,  and  he  did  so,  much  to  the  distraction 
of  his  family.  It  was  actually  performed.  He  thus 
described  his  composition: 

This  was  the  culmination  of  my  absurdities.  What  I  did,  above 
all  things  wrong,  was  a  roll  fortissimo  upon  the  kettle-drums,  which 
returned  regularly  every  four  bars  throughout  the  composition.  The 
surprise  which  the  public  experienced  changed  first  to  unconcealed 
ill-humour,  and  then  into  laughter,  which  greatly  mcrtiSed  me. 


The  Rheingold  307 

It  was  under  Theodor  Weinlig's  teaching  that  he  finally 
developed  a  fixed  purpose  of  composition  and  something 
like  regular  study. 

When  he  first  wished  to  marry,  he  could  not  for  lack  of 
money  to  provide  a  home  for  his  wife.  In  time  this  diffi- 
culty was  overcome,  and  later  he  started  to  London  with 
his  wife  and  his  dog,  which  was  named  Robber.  The 
terrors  of  that  voyage  impressed  him  so  much  that  he 
was  inspired  with  the  idea  for  "The  Flying  Dutchman," 
one  of  his  great  operas.  He  was  told  the  legend  of  "The 
Flying  Dutchman  "  by  the  sailors;  but  long  before  he  was 
able  to  write  that  splendid  opera  he  was  compelled  to 
write  music  for  the  variety  stage  in  order  to  feed  his  wife 
and  himself.  He  wrote  articles  for  musical  periodicals, 
and  did  a  great  deal  of  what  is  known  as  "hack"  work 
before  his  great  genius  found  opportunity.  One  manager 
liked  the  dramatic  idea  of  "The  Flying  Dutchman"  so 
well  that  he  was  willing  to  buy  it  if  Wagner  would  let 
him  get  some  one  H'ho  knew  how  to  write  music,  to  set  it. 

After  the  production  of  "Rienzi"  in  Dresden,  his  diffi- 
culties were  never  again  so  serious,  and  soon  he  became 
HofkapcUmcislcr  (musical  director  at  court),  which  gave 
him  an  income,  leaving  him  free  to  write  operas  as  he  chose. 

When  "  Rienzi  "  was  produced,  a  great  musician  said: 
"This  is  a  man  of  genius;  but  he  has  already  done  more 
than  he  can'.  Listen  to  me,  and  give  up  dramatic  com- 
position ! "     But  he  continued  to  "  do  more  than  he  could." 

When  he  wrote  "Tannhauser"  he  was  reduced  almost 
to  despair,  for  nobody  liked  it.  Schumann  said  of  it: 
"It  is  the  empty  and  unpieasing  music  of  an  amateur." 
But  Spohr  wrote:  "The  oi)cra  contains  certain  new  and 
fine  things,  which  at  first  I  did  not  like,  but  to  which  I 
became  accustomed  on  repeated  hearings." 


3o8  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

At  last,  this  composer,  whose  inspirations  had  come 
entirely  from  historical  subjects,  found  his  mythological 
beginnings  in  the  Scandinavian  Eddas;  and  in  a  poem  of 
the  "Nibelung"  he  found  the  germ  of  "Siegfried." 

As  Kapellmeister  of  the  court,  Wagner  did  too  many 
indiscreet  things:  allied  himself  with  revolutionists  and 
the  like;  and,  before  he  knew  it,  he  found  himself  an  exile. 
Liszt  was  his  friend,  and  when,  on  a  visit  to  Weimar,  poli- 
tics made  his  presence  hazardous,  Liszt  got  him  a  pass- 
port which  took  him  out  of  the  country.  He  did  not 
return  for  twelve  years. 

During  his  exile,  which  was  passed  mostly  in  Zurich, 
he  had  Karl  Ritter  and  Hans  von  Biilow  for  pupils,  and 
it  was  there  that  he  did  all  of  his  most  wonderful  work. 
There  he  composed  the  "Nibelung  Ring."  He  wrote  the 
last  of  it  first,  and  the  first  of  it  ("  Das  Rheingold  ")  last. 
This  was  because  his  central  idea,  as  it  developed,  seemed 
to  need  explanation,  and  successive  operas  upon  the 
same  dramatic  and  mythological  theme  became  necessary. 

Wagner's  mythology  is  not  the  mythology  of  the  Eddas. 
It  is  distinctly  his  own,  he  having  adapted  a  great  and 
rugged  folklore  to  his  dramatic  purposes,  regardless  of 
its  original  construction. 

In  the  Ring,  the  Goddess  Fricka  is  a  disagreeable 
goddess  of  domesticity,  and  the  story  is  told  of  a  first 
reading  of  the  opera  series,  which  involved  an  anecdote 
of  Fricka  and  his  hostess: 

He  went  to  the  house  of  a  friend,  Wille,  to  read  the 
poem  after  it  was  finished,  and  Madame  Wille  happened 
to  be  called  from  the  room,  while  he  was  reading,  to  look 
after  her  little  sick  child.  When  she  returned,  Wagner 
had  been  so  annoyed  by  the  interruption  that  he  there- 
after named  Madame  Wille,  Fricka. 


The  Rheingold  309 

During  a  sleepless  night  in  Italy  he  formed  the  plan  for 
the  music  of  "Das  Rheingold,"  but  not  wishing  to  write 
on  Italian  soil,  he  got  up  and  hastened  to  Zurich. 

He  would  not  come  to  America  to  give  a  series  of  con- 
certs because  he  "was  not  disposed  to  go  about  as  a 
concert-pedlar,  even  for  a  fabulous  sum." 

The  irony  of  all  the  world  is  epitomized  in  a  single  in- 
cident that  occurred  to  Wagner  in  London.  He  was  ac- 
cused of  a  grave  fault  because  he  conducted  Beethoven's 
symphonies  "from  memory."  Therefore  he  announced 
he  would  thereafter  conduct  them  from  the  score.  He 
reappeared  with  the  score  very  much  in  evidence  upon 
his  rack,  and  won  British  approval  completely.  Then 
he  announced  that  he  had  conducted  from  "  II  Barbiere 
de  Siviglia"  with  the  Barber's  score  upside  down! 

He  wrote  to  his  friend  Roekel:  "If  anything  could  in- 
crease my  scorn  of  the  world,  it  would  be  my  expedition 
to  London." 

Wagner  was  fiery  and  excessive  in  all  his  feelings  and 
doings.  He  hurt  his  friends  without  malice,  and  made 
them  happy  for  love  of  doing  so.  His  home  was  broken 
up  by  his  own  unruly  disposition;  and  when  his  good, 
commonplace  wife  left  him,  it  was  said  that  he  neglected 
to  take  care  of  her,  but  this  was  not  true.  She,  herself, 
denied  it  before  she  died.  His  second  marriage  was  a 
happy  one  —  to  the  daughter  of  his  friend  Liszt. 

When  his  little  son  was  born,  he  named  him  Siegfried, 
after  his  favourite  hero,  and  at  the  time  of  the  christen- 
ing he  had  a  magnificent  little  orchestra  hidden  away, 
conducted  by  Hans  Richter,  which  played  the  old  German 
cradle-song,  now  woven  into  the  third  act  of  "Siegfried." 

The  manner  in  which  the  cycle  of  the  "Nibeiung  Ring" 
was  first  presented  was  as  follows:  The  first   opera   was 


310  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

given  on  a  Sunday,  the  last  on  a  Wednesday,  and  then 
there  were  three  days  of  rest,  beginning  once  more  on  a 
Sunday  and  ending  as  before.  This  order  continued  for 
three  representations,  and  it  has  been  followed  in  Bay- 
reuth  ever  since. 

For  lack  of  means,  Wagner  saw  his  theatre  opened  only 
three  times,  but  since  his  death  there  have  been  sev- 
eral performances. 

THE  NIBELUNG  RING 
FIRST  DAY 

TETRALOGY 

The  Rhein  Daughters:  Woglinde,  Wellgunde,  Flosshilde;  guar- 
dians of  the  Rheingold.  They  appear  in  the  "Rheingold"  and 
in  the  "Dusk  of  the  Gods." 

Fricka:  Goddess  of  Marriage  or  domesticity,  Wotan's  wife;  sister  of 
Donner,  Froh,  and  Freia.  Appears  in  the  "  Rheingold  "  and  in 
the  "  Valkyrie." 

Freia  :  Goddess  of  Plenty;  sister  to  Donner,  Froh,  and  Fricka.  Ap- 
pears in  the  "Rheingold." 

Erda:  Goddess  of  Wisdom;  mother  of  the  three  Fates  or  Norns  and 
of  the  nine  Valkyries.  Appears  in  the  "Rheingold"  and  in 
"  Siegfried." 

Sieglinde:  Daughter  of  Wotan  under  his  name  of  Walse.  Hun- 
dig's  wife,  and  then  Siegmund's  wife.  Siegfried  is  her  son.  Ap- 
pears in  the  "Valkyrie." 

Brunnhilde:  A  Valkyrie;  daughter  of  Wotan  and  Erda;  first  Sieg- 
fried's wife,  then  Gunther's. 

The  Valkyries:  Helmwige,  Gerhilde,  Waltraute,  Ortlinde,  Ross- 
weisse,  Grimgerde,  and  Schwertleite.  Daughters  of  Wotan  and 
Erda,  and  sisters  to  Brunnhilde.  Appear  in  the  "Valkyrie," 
and  Waltraute  also  in  the  "Dusk  of  the  Gods." 

Norns:  Earth's  daughters  who  spin  men's  destinies. 

Gutrune:  Daughter  of  Gibich  and  Grimilde  and  Gunther's  sister, 
Hagen's  half-sister,  and  Siegfried's  wife.  Appears  in  the  "Dusk 
of  the  Gods." 

Wotan:  (The  Wanderer)  King  of  the  Gods,  and  God  of  War,  Father 
of  the  Valkyries,  Father  of  Siegmund  and  Sieglinde.  Appears 
in  the  "Rheingold,  the  "Valkyrie,"  and  as  the  Wanderer, in 
"Siegfried."     Married  to  Fricka. 

Alberich:  Gnome:  King  of  the  Nibelungs,  Spirit  of  Darkness.  Ap- 
pears in  the  "Rheingold,"  "Siegfried,"  and  the  "Dusk  of  the 
Gods." 


The  Rheingold  311 

Fasolt:  Giant  and  brother  of  Fafner;  belongs  to  the  race  of  mortals. 

Appears  in  the  "Rheingold." 
Fafner:  Giant  and  brother  of  Fasolt,  and  of  the  race  of  mortals. 

Appears  in  the  "Rheingold"  and  "Siegfried." 
Froh:  God  of  Pleasure;  brother  of  Dormer  and  Freia,  and  Fricka. 

Appears  in  the  "Rheingold." 
Donner:  God  of  Thunder,  brother  to  Fricka,  Freia,  and  Froh.     Ap- 
pears in  the  "Rheingold." 
Loge:   Spirit  of  Fire  and  Flame.     Belongs  first  to  the  underworld 

and  then  the  Gods.     Appears  in  the  "  Rheingold." 
Mime:  Dwarf  (Nibelung,  foster-father  of  Siegfried.)     Appears  in  the 

"Rheingold"  and  in  "Siegfried." 
SiEGiTCND:  Son  of  Wotan,  husband  to  Sieglinde  and  Siegfried's  father. 

Appears  in  the  "Valkyrie." 
Siegfried:  Son  of  Siegmund  and  Sieglinde,  and  grandson  of  Wotan 

(Walse).      Husband  of  Briinnhilde  and  Gutrune.      Appears  in 

"Siegfried"  and  the  "Dusk  of  the  Gods." 
Huxding:  Sieglinde's  husband.     Appears  in  the  "Valkyrie." 
Gunther:  Son  of  Gibich  and  Grirnhilde  and  brother  to  Gutrune 

and  husband  to  Briinnhilde;  half-brother  to  Hagen.     Appears 

in  the  "Dusk  of  the  Gods. 
Hagen:   Son  of  Alberich  and  Grirnhilde;  half-brother  to  Gunther 

and  Gutnme.  Appears  in  the  "Dusk  of  the  Gods." 

'THE  RHEINGOLD 

CHAIL,\CTERS  OF  THE   OPERA 


Gods. 


Donner^ 

Wotan 

Froh 

Loge       J 

Fricka     \ 

Freia       /■  Goddesses. 

Erda       J 

Alberich  1  >.^-i    , 

Mime      /^'belungs. 

J'^f^t     I  Giants. 

l-ainer     J 

Woglinde   "] 

Wellgunde  >  Rhein-daughters. 

Flosshilde  j 

Xibelungs. 

ACT  I 


Deep  down  in  the  jagged  bed  of  the  river  Rhein  there 
l?.y  hidden  a  great  treasure  of  gold,  which  for  ages  had 


312  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

belonged  to  the  Rhein-daughters  —  three  mermaids  who 
guarded  it. 

Above  the  gold,  in  and  out  of  the  shadowy  fissures,  the 
beautiful  fishwomen  had  swum  and  played  happily,  and 
the  years  had  never  made  them  old  nor  weary  nor  sad. 
There  they  frolicked  and  sang  and  feared  nothing.  The 
golden  treasure  was  heaped  high  upon  the  rock  in  the 
middle  of  the  river's  bed,  and  it  shone  through  the  waters 
of  the  stream,  always  to  cheer  and  delight  them. 

Now,  one  tragic  day,  while  the  daughters  of  the  Rhein 
were  darting  gaily  about  their  water  home,  a  little  dark 
imp  came  from  Nibelheim  —  the  underground  land  of 
the  Nibelungs  —  and  hid  himself  in  the  dark  cleft  of  a 
rock  to  watch  the  mermaids  play.  In  all  the  universe 
there  was  probably  not  so  malevolent  a  creature  as  that 
one.  His  name  was  Alberich.  Hidden  in  his  dark  nook, 
he  blinked  his  rheumy  eyes  at  the  mermaids,  envied  them 
their  beauty,  and  thought  how  he  might  approach  them. 
Above,  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  it  was  twilight,  and 
the  reflection  from  the  gold  upon  the  rock  was  soft  and  a 
beautiful  greenish  hue.  The  mermaids,  all  covered 
with  iridescent  scales  from  waist  to  tail,  glimmered 
through  the  waters  in  a  most  entrancing  way.  In  that 
shimmering,  changeful  light  they  were  in  amazing  con- 
trast with  the  slimy,  misshapen  Alberich,  who  came  from 
that  underworld  where  only  half-blind,  ugly,  and  treach- 
erous creatures  live.  The  mermaids  disported  them- 
selves quite  unconscious  of  the  imp's  presence,  till  he 
laughed  aloud,  and  then,  startled,  they  swam  in  haste 
and  affright  to  the  rock  where  the  gold  lay  stored. 

"Look  to  our  gold,"  Flosshilde  cried  in  warning  to 
her  sisters. 

"Aye!    It  was  just  such  a  creature  as  this,  whom  our 


The  Rheingold  313 

father  warned  us  against.  What  does  he  want  here,  I 
should  like  to  know?"  Woglinde  screamed,  swimming 
frantically  to  join  her  sisters. 

"Can  I  not  watch  ye  at  play?"  Alberich  called,  grin- 
ning diabolically.  ''Dive  deeper,  — here,  near  to  me;  I 
shall  not  harm  ye." 

At  this  they  recovered  a  little  from  their  fright,  but 
instead  of  approaching  the  ugly  fellow,  they  laughed  at 
him  and  swam  about,  near  enough  to  tantalize  him. 

"Only  listen  to  the  languishing  imp,"  they  laughed. 
"He  thinks  to  join  us  in  our  sport." 

"Why  not  swim  down  and  torment  him?"  Flosshilde 
said.  "He  can  never  catch  us  —  such  a  sluggish  creature 
as  he!" 

"Hellol"  Wellgunde  cried;  "Scramble  up  here,  if 
you  like."  Alberich  tried  to  join  them,  but  he  slipped 
and  rolled  about  over  the  wet  stones  and  cursed  in  a  most 
terrible  way. 

"That  is  all  very  well,  but  I  am  not  made  for  thy  wet 
and  slippery  abode.  The  water  makes  me  sneeze."  He 
sneezed  in  a  manner  that  set  all  the  mermaids  laughing 
till  their  scales  shook.  However,  he  at  last  reached  the 
rock  whereon  the  gold  lay  and  he  had  no  sooner  got  near 
than  the  sun  shone  out  so  brightly  above,  that  the  rays 
shot  through  the  waters  and  reflected  a  beauteous  gleam 
from  the  Rheingold.    Alberich  started  back  in  amazement. 

"What  is  that,  ye  sleek  ones,"  he  asked,  "that  gleams 
so  brightly  there?" 

"What,  imp!  Dost  thou  not  know  the  story  of  the 
Rheingold?  Come,  bathe  in  its  glow  and  maybe  it  will 
take  away  a  little  of  thy  ugliness,"  one  of  the  sisters  cried. 

"What  do  I  care  for  the  lustre  of  gold?  It  is  the  gold 
itself  that  I  want." 


314  Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 

"Well,  the  lustre  is  all  that  thou  wilt  get,"  Flosshilde 
answered  him.  "The  one  who  would  take  our  gold  and 
hope  to  make  of  it  the  magic  ring  must  forswear  love 
forever.  Who  is  there  who  would  do  that? "  she  called, 
swimming  triumphantly  toward  the  rock. 

"  What  is  the  secret  of  thy  ring  that  a  man  must  for- 
swear love  for  it?"     Alberich  asked  craftily. 

"The  secret  is,  that  he  who  would  be  so  rash  would 
have  in  return  power  over  all  the  earth." 

"What?"  shouted  the  wretched  Nibelung,  "Well, 
then,  since  love  has  forsworn  me,  I  shall  lose  nothing  by 
forswearing  love.  I  need  not  hesitate  to  use  thy  gold." 
Springing  and  clinging  to  the  rock  the  Nibelung  tore  the 
gold  from  its  resting  place,  dived  deep  into  the  river-bed 
and  disappeared  into  the  fissures  of  the  earth.  The  mer- 
maids followed  frantically,  but  he  was  quite  gone,  and 
with  him  the  beautiful  gold,  which  till  then  had  given 
only  innocent  pleasure  to  the  Rhein-daughters.  As  soon 
as  the  gold  vanished,  the  sun  was  hid,  and  the  waters 
turned  dark  and  gloomy.  The  waves  began  to  grow 
black,  rough,  and  high,  while  the  water  sank,  sank,  sank, 
till  only  darkness  and  a  rushing  sound  could  be  seen  or 
heard. 

As  the  waves  disappeared,  a  thick  mist  took  their  place, 
and  soon  separating,  became  detached  clouds,  till  at  last 
the  sun  shone  forth  again.  As  the  cloudlets  floated  quite 
away  a  great  mountain  was  revealed.  The  water  had 
given  place  to  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  there,  in  the 
early  morning  light,  lay  Fricka,  the  Goddess  of  home  and 
domesticity,  and  Wo  tan,  the  God  of  War,  who  wasFricka's 
husband.  Behind  them  rose  a  great  cliff  and  as  the  sun 
shone  more  and  more  brightly  a  splendid  palace  could  be 
seen  rising  into  the  clouds.     All  its  pinnacles  sparkled  in 


The  Rheingold  315 

the  sun's  rays,  while  the  river  Rhein  flowed  peacefully 
between  the  mountain  peak  whereon  the  palace  rose, 
and  the  hills  where  Wotan  and  his  Goddess  lay. 

Scene  II 

Just  as  the  sun  arose,  the  Goddess  Fricka  lifted  her 
head,  and,  looking  behind  her,  saw  the  palace.  It  gave 
her  a  terrible  fright,  because  it  had  not  been  there  when 
she  fell  asleep. 

"Look,  Wotan!"  she  called  loudly.  "What  do  I  see?" 
Wotan  raised  himself  at  her  call.  He  gazed  and  was 
spellbound  with  delight. 

"Walhall,  the  home  of  the  Gods;  the  home  of  the  Eter- 
nals!" he  cried.     "It  appears  as  it  did  in  my  dreams." 

"That  which  enraptures  thee  fills  me  with  fear," 
Fricka  replied  sadly.  "Hast  thou  not  promised  to  give 
my  sister  Freia  to  the  Giants  who  builded  it  for  thee? 
Their  task  is  done,  and  now  they  will  claim  their  reward. 
Hast  thou  no  feeling?  Thou  art  cold  and  cruel,  knowing 
nothing  of  tenderness  and  love!" 

"How  falsely  thou  accusest  me,"  Wotan  answered. 
"  Did  I  not  give  an  eye  to  win  thee,  Fricka?  "  He  looked 
tenderly  at  her  with  his  single,  brilliant  eye.  "True,  I 
have  promised  Freia  to  the  Giants  when  they  should 
have  finished  the  palace,  but  I  do  not  mean  to  keep  that 
promise." 

"How  wilt  thou  evade  it?"     Fricka  asked  scornfully. 

"Loge,  the  S[)irit  of  Flame,  shall  i)repare  the  way.  He 
agreed  to  help  me  satisfy  them  in  some  other  way  and  he 
will  do  it." 

"Loge?"  Fricka  cried,  still  more  scornfully.  "That 
trickster!    He  is  a  fine  one  to  look  to.    It  was  a  sad  day 


3i6  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

for  us  when  thou  didst  rescue  him  from  the  under-worjd, 
where  even  his  own  did  not  trust  him." 

"He  will  keep  his  word,"  Wotan  answered,  confidently. 

''Then  it  is  time  he  appeared,"  the  Goddess  cried,  "since 
here  comes  Freia,  the  giants  after  her,  to  demand  the 
reward."  At  that  moment,  Freia,  their  Goddess  sister, 
ran  crying  to  Wotan  to  save  her  from  Fasolt  and  Fafner, 
the  Giants,  who  followed  her  with  great  strides. 

"Save  me,  save  me,  brother,"  Freia  cried. 

"I  shall  save  thee,"  Wotan  answered,  reassuringly. 
"  Did  not  Loge  promise  to  ransom  thee?  He  will  be  here 
presently.  Have  no  fear."  Nevertheless  Wotan,  him- 
self, was  not  too  confident,  and  he  looked  anxiously  for 
the  Spirit  of  Flame.  Meantime  the  Giants  were  striding 
over  the  mountain. 

"Come  now,"  they  shouted,  "while  we  wrought,  ye 
slept.  Give  us  our  reward  as  promised  and  we  shall  be 
off." 

"Well,  what  do  ye  want?  Name  a  suitable  reward 
and  I  shall  give  it  to  ye."  Wotan  answered,  trying  to 
pacify  them.. 

"We  want  only  what  is  promised,  and  we  shall  have  it. 
We  shall  take  the  Goddess  Freia."  They  struck  the 
earth  with  their  staves  and  roared  loudly. 

"Conner!  Froh!"  Freia  shrieked  to  her  brothers, 
and  immediately  they  rushed  upon  the  scene.  Donner, 
the  God  of  Thunder,  carried  a  great  hammer  with  which 
he  woke  the  thunders.  "Save  me  from  Fasolt  and  Faf- 
ner," Freia  cried. 

"We'll  save  thee,  sister,"  Froh  answered,  facing  the 
Giants,  while  Donner  menaced  them  with  his  thunders. 

"You  know  the  weight  of  my  hammer's  blow,"  he 
threatened,  while  the  Giants  laughed  a  horrible,  rumbling 


The  RJteingold  317 

laugh  and  Donner  swung  his  hammer.  Wotan  feared 
the  strife  that  would  surely  follow,  and  being  a  god  of 
war,  understood  the  value  of  diplomacy,  as  well  as  of 
force,  so  he  interposed  his  spear  between  the  Giants  and 
Donner. 

"Thy  thunder  is  powerless  against  my  spear,  Don- 
ner. The  whole  world  is  shattered  if  only  I  interpose 
thus;  so  hold  thy  peace." 

"Even  Wotan  abandons  us,"  Fricka  cried  in  despair. 
"Where  is  now  thy  fine  Loge?" 

"I  can  quench  thy  accursed  Loge  with  only  one  blow 
of  my  hammer,  which  shall  make  the  mists  collect  and 
the  waters  descend  upon  the  earth  till  his  fires  are  put 
out,"  Donner  answered  bitterly, 

"Hold  thy  peace,"  Wotan  commanded.  "His  cunning 
is  worth  all  thy  force  and  here  he  comes  to  straighten  out 
this  coil.  Come,  Loge,"  Wotan  demanded,  "thou  hast 
promised  to  free  us  from  this  bargain;  get  thy  wits  to 
work." 

"Alas,  Wotan!"  the  tricky  fellow  replied,  coming  into 
their  midst,  "I  have  wandered  everywhere  for  a  substi- 
tute for  the  Goddess  Frei'a,  and  have  found  none;  but  I 
have  brought  news  of  great  misfortune,  which  thou  art 
called  upon  to  set  right,"  he  said,  watching  the  Giants 
craftily  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye.  "The  Rhein-daugh- 
ters  have  lost  their  gold.  It  has  been  stolen  by  a  Nibel- 
ung,  and  with  the  golden  treasure  he  can  rule  the  world. 
The  bargain  with  the  Fates  was:  he  who  should  forswear 
love  forever  would  be  able  to  make  of  the  Rheingold  a 
magic  ring  which  would  give  him  power  over  all  the 
earth  and  over  the  Eternals  as  well.  Alberich  has  done 
this  and  has  stolen  the  gold." 

Now,  while  the  cunning  Loge  spoke,  the  Giants  had 


3i8  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

been  listening,  and  exchanging  glances.  When  Loge 
had  finished,  Fafner  spoke  up: 

"I  would  not  mind  having  that  gold  for  myself." 

"How?  Wouldst  thou  take  it  in  exchange  for  Freia?'* 
Wotan  instantly  asked. 

"Have  a  care,  brother,"  Fasolt  interposed;  "after  all, 
a  woman's  love " 

"  It  will  not  gain  for  us  what  the  Rheingold  will  gain," 
Fafner  answered  determinedly.  "Wilt  give  us  the  gold 
for  Freia?"  he  asked  Wotan. 

All  the  Gods  fell  to  talking  among  themselves.  Freia 
pleaded  with  Wotan,  and  Wotan  reflected:  the  word 
"gold"  made  even  the  Gods  tremble  with  pleasure.  Why 
should  Wotan  not  have  the  treasure  for  himself? 

"Well,  answer  us!"  Fafner  shouted,  making  a  mo- 
tion to  take  the  Goddess  and  flee.  Fricka  and  Freia 
shrieked  with  fright.  "What  is  the  secret  of  this  ring?" 
Fafner  asked  again. 

"That  whoever  shall  make  a  ring  out  of  the  Rhein- 
gold shall  rule  the  universe.  Alberich  has  already  for- 
sworn love,  and  is  already  having  the  ring  made." 

"We  shall  take  the  Goddess  Freia,"  Fafner  cried, 
"and  give  ye  till  evening  to  decide  among  yourselves.  If 
ye  have  not  the  gold  by  that  time  the  Goddess  is  ours 
forever."  So  saying  he  leaped  toward  Freia,  grasped 
her  and  fled  over  mountain  and  valley,  while  the  Goddess 
Fricka  cried  out  wildly,  and  Freia  echoed  her  shrieks.  All 
looked  anxiously  toward  Wotan. 

"How  darkly  Wotan  broods,"  Loge  thought,  while  a 
great  gloom  settled  upon  all.  A  pale  mist  gradually  enfold- 
ed all  the  Gods,  as  they  stood  uncertain  and  troubled. 
Until  that  moment  they  had  appeared  young  and  hand- 
some, but  now  they  looked  at  each  other  in  fright. 


The  Rheingold  319 

"What  aileth  thee?"  each  asked  of  the  other.  "Do 
the  mists  trick  us?"  Each  stared  at  the  other  in  horror, 
because  all  were  growing  old,  suddenly. 

"My  hammer  drops  from  my  hand,"  Conner  muttered, 
weakly, 

"My  heart  stands  still,"  Froh  sighed  faintly. 

"Ah!  Know  ye  not  the  fate  that  has  overtaken  you?" 
cried  Loge.  "Ye  have  not  to-day  eaten  of  Freia's  magic 
apples;  the  Apples  of  Life.  Without  them  ye  must  grow 
old  and  die,  ye  well  know.  Without  Freia  to  tend  the 
fruit,  it  must  wither." 

Reminded  of  what  they  had  forgotten,  the  Gods  start- 
ed up  in  terror. 

"'Tis  true,  'tis  true!  We  are  fainting,  dying!  What 
is  to  be  done?" 

"Get  the  gold  quickly  from  Alberich,  and  redeem  the 
Goddess,"  the  tricky  Spirit  of  Flame  answered  with  de- 
cision. "That  is  why  they  have  taken  Freia.  Well 
those  Giants  know  that  without  her  and  her  apples  ye 
must  die;  thus  they  will  overcome  the  good  of  the  Gods. 
Ye  must  redeem  her  before  the  evening  comes,  or  ye  all 
must  die." 

"Up,  Loge!"  Wotan  cried  desperately.  "Down  to 
Nibelheim  with  me.  The  gold  must  be  ours.  Oh,  death! 
stay  thy  hand  an  hour  till  we  can  buy  back  our  youth  and 
everlasting  life!"  Loge  interrupted  him,  narrowly  eye- 
ing him: 

"The  gold  belongs  to  the  Rhein-daughters.  It  should 
be  returned  to  them." 

"Cease  thy  babbling,"  Wotan  shouted,  "and  get  thee 
down  to  Nibelheim." 

"Shall  we  not  go  through  the  river  Rhein?"  Loge 
craftily  asked. 


320  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Get  thee  through  that  sulphurous  cleft,"  Wotan  an- 
swered, pointing  to  the  deep  fissure  in  the  rock.  "Swing 
thyself  down  and  I  will  follow  thee."  He  no  sooner 
ceased  to  speak  than  Loge  swung  himself  into  the  black 
abyss,  and  a  frightful,  sulphurous  vapour  arose  from  the 
opening. 

"Await  us  here  till  evening,"  Wotan  charged  the  Gods 
and  Fricka,  and  he  in  turn  disappeared. 

As  Wotan  followed  Loge  into  the  abyss,  such  clouds  of 
vapour  arose  as  to  hide  the  Gods  completely,  and  as 
Fricka  called  "farewell"  through  the  mist  the  earth  be- 
gan slowly  to  rise,  showing  the  descent  of  Wotan  and 
Loge.  Their  passage  through  the  earth  was  long  and 
filled  with  astounding  sights.  It  grew  blacker  and 
blacker,  but  after  a  time  they  saw  the  far-off  glow  of  forge- 
fires,  and  heard  the  sound  of  hammers  ringing  upon  anvils. 
These  things,  too,  passed  them  by,  and  on  a  sudden, 
they  found  themselves  in  the  midst  of  a  large  open  space, 
formed  by  a  cavern  in  the  rock. 

Scene  III 

As  they  arrived  at  that  place,  they  heard  groans  and 
moans,  and  shrieks  and  wrangling.  Presently  they  saw 
Alberich  bring  from  a  cleft  of  the  rock  a  wretched  Mime, 
one  of  the  inhabitants  of  Nibelheim. 

"Ah,  thou  mischievous  imp!  I'll  pinch  thee  well  if 
thou  forgest  me  not  the  thing  I  commanded  thee,"  Albe- 
rich shouted,  at  the  same  time  pinching  and  poking  the 
miserable  little  fellow. 

"I've  finished  thy  work,"  the  Nibelung  screamed, 
trying  to  flee  from  Alberich's  blows. 

"Then  where  is  it?"  the  wretch    demanded;    as    he 


The  Rheingold  321 

wrenched  open  the  Mime's  hand  in  which  was  concealed 
a  piece  of  metal  called  a  Tarnhelm. 

"Ah,  ha!  Now  thou  shalt  writhe,"  Alberich  shouted, 
and  setting  the  Tarnhelm  upon  his  head  he  immediately 
became  invisible.  Unseen  himself,  he  pinched  and  cuffed 
the  Mime  so  as  to  make  the  tortured  little  imp  cry  for 
mercy. 

"I  cannot  see  you,"  the  Mime  screamed  piteously, 
trying  to  dodge  the  blows. 

"No  matter,  I  am  somewhere  about,"  Alberich  an- 
swered, giving  him  another  pinch.  Then  taking  the 
Tarnhelm  from  his  head  he  stood  there  in  his  own  shape. 

"Now,"  shouted  the  imp  of  darkness,  "Now  I  can 
punish  thee  properly!  If  thy  work  is  not  well  done  I 
can  torment  thee  to  death.  With  this  magic  helmet  and 
my  ring  I  can  make  the  whole  world  smart  if  I  choose. 
And  I  shall  choose,"  he  added,  reassuringly.  "Wait  till 
I  get  at  those  fine  Gods  up  there."  He  disappeared  chuck- 
ling, into  a  crack  in  the  rock  while  the  Mime  crouched 
down  in  pain. 

Alberich  had  no  sooner  gone,  than  Loge  and  Wotan 
came  from  the  darkness. 

"What  is  wrong  with  thee,  thou  merry  dwarf?"  Wotan 
asked. 

"Only  leave  me  to  myself,"  the  Mime  sobbed,  moving 
his  sore  body. 

"So  we  shall,  but  we  shall  do  more  than  that;  we  shall 
help  thee.  Only  tell  us  what  ye  forged  for  Alberich  which 
gave  him  such  power  over  ye  I" 

"Oh,  it  was  a  ring,  made  from  the  Rheingold.  Now 
he  has  power  over  all  the  Nibelheim,  and  he  will  kill  us. 
Till  this  happened,  we  wrought  at  the  forge  beautiful 
trinkets  for  our  women-folks  and  laughed  gaily  all  day, 


322  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

but  now  he  has  made  us  his  slaves  who  must  dig  precious 
metals  from  the  earth  and  turn  them  into  what  he  com- 
mands. There  is  no  more  happiness  for  us.  I  thought 
to  keep  the  Tarnhelm  he  bade  me  make,  and  learn  its 
power,  but  I  had  to  give  it  up."  He  went  on  whining 
and  moaning. 

"Ah,  thy  case  is  a  hard  one!  but  we  shall  help  thee." 
While  Wotan  was  thinking  what  they  should  do,  Alberich 
was  heard  returning.  He  was  cracking  his  whip  and 
driving  a  great  host  of  Nibelungs  before  him  from  the 
cleft  of  the  rock.  All  were  staggering  under  loads  of 
valuable  metals;  gold  and  silver,  and  precious  stones. 

"Hi,  there!  Move  thy  fastest,"  he  shouted,  lashing 
them  as  he  drove  them  before  him.  He  had  taken  his 
Tarnhelm  off  and  hung  it  at  his  girdle:  turning,  he  saw 
Wotan  and  Loge. 

"Hey!  Who  are  these?"  he  cried.  "Nibelungs,  be 
off  to  your  digging;  and  mind  ye  bring  me  treasure  worth 
having."  Lashing  them  soundly,  and  raising  his  magic 
ring  to  his  lips,  the  Nibelungen  shrunk  away  in  affright 
and  disappeared  into  the  clefts  of  the  rock. 

"Ah,  ye  are  a  precious  possession,"  he  sai4  to  the  ring. 
"Whoever  fails  to  obey  thy  Lord,  feels  thy  power."  The 
little  black  villain  looked  gloatingly  upon  it;  then  turn- 
ing to  Wotan  and  Loge  he  asked:  "What  are  ye  doing 
in  my  domain?" 

"We  have  heard  of  thy  power,  great  sir,  and  came  to 
see  it,"    Loge  replied. 

"It  were  nearer  the  truth  if  ye  come  to  envy  me,  and 
to  spy  out  my  possessions,"  he  answered,  but  Loge 
laughed  as  he  retorted: 

"What!  you  miserable  imp  of  darkness!  You  speak 
thus  to  me!    Do  you  not  remember  me?    I  was  once 


The  Rheingold  323 

of  thy  realm.  Pray  tell  me  what  you  would  do  in  your 
underground  caverns  with  your  forges  and  smithies  if  I 
were  to  deny  you  my  flame?  How,  then,  would  you 
forge  your  precious  rings?"     Loge  laughed  mockingly. 

"You  are  that  false  rogue,  the  Spirit  of  Flame,  then?" 
Alberich  said. 

"Never  mind  calling  names;  you  can't  get  on  without 
me,  you  know  that  well  enough,"  Loge  answered,  grinning. 

"  What  good  can  thy  treasures  do  thee  here  in  this  per- 
petual night?"     Wotan  asked. 

"My  gold  shall  buy  me  even  the  Gods,  themselves." 
Alberich  replied;  "and  though  I  forswore  love,  I  am 
likely  to  get  even  that;  my  gold  shall  buy  it  for  me." 

"What  prevents  some  one  stealing  thy  magic  ring? 
Thou  hast  no  friend  in  all  the  world,  so  when  you  sleep 
who  shall  guard  the  ring?" 

"Aly  own  Vv'it!  What,  think  you  I  am  a  fool?  Let 
us  see!  By  my  own  cunning  I  have  had  fashioned  this 
Tarnhelm  which  makes  me  invisible  to  all.  Then  who 
shall  fmd  me  when  I  sleep?"  he  demanded  triumphantly. 

Loge  smiled  contemptuously. 

"Doubtless  thou  wouldst  be  safe  enough  —  if  such 
m.agic  could  be,"  he  answered,  incredulously,  "but " 

"  You  doubt?  "  Alberich  shouted,  his  vanity  all  aroused. 

"Well,  if  it  be  true  —  show  us,"  the  cunning  Flame 
Spirit  returned.  Immediately  Alberich  set  the  Tarn- 
helm  upon  his  head. 

"What  would  ye  that  I  become?" 

"Oh,  it  matters  not  —  so  that  you  become  something 
that  you  are  not,"     Loge  answered  carelessly. 

"Then  behold  I"  All)crich  cried,  and  instantly  he 
turned  into  a  great  writhing  serpent  which  coiled  and 
uncoiled  at  Wotan's  feet. 


324  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Oh,  swallow  me  not,"  Loge  cried,  as  if  in  mortal 
fear.  Then  Alberich,  becoming  himself  again  shouted, 
"Now  will  you  doubt?" 

"That  Vi^as  very  well  done,"  Loge  assured  him,  and  I 
grant  you  frightened  me;  but  as  for  your  safety  —  if 
you  could  have  turned  yourself  into  some  small  thing  — 
a  toad  or  mouse  for  example  —  it  would  be  safer  for 
you." 

"Then  behold!"  Alberich  shouted  again,  losing  all 
caution  in  his  pique.  He  turned  himself  into  a  slimy 
crippled  toad,  which  crawled  upon  the  rock,  near  Wotan's 
foot.  Instantly  Wotan  set  his  heel  upon  the  creature 
and  pinned  him  to  the  earth,  while  Loge  grasped  the 
Tarnhelm.  Then  Alberich  becoming  himself  again 
squirmed  and  shouted,  beneath  Wotan's  feet. 

"Something  to  bind  the  imp,  quickly,"  Wotan  called 
to  Loge,  and  in  a  trice  the  dwarf  was  bound,  and  borne 
upward  by  the  God  and  Loge.  Again  they  passed  by  the 
smithy  lights,  heard  the  ring  of  the  anvils,  and  soon  they 
were  back  at  the  trysting  place.  The  Nibelung,  still 
shrieking  and  cursing  at  his  own  folly,  was  placed  upon 
a  rock,  while  Loge  and  Wotan  stood  looking  down  at  him. 

Scene  IV 

"There,  imp,  the  Gods  have  conquered  thee  and  thy 
magic.  Thus  they  conquer  the  powers  of  evil  and  dark- 
ness. Thou  art  henceforth  our  slave  unless  you  see  fit 
to  ransom  yourself  with  the  Rhein  treasure." 

At  this,  Alberich  set  up  a  great  howling,  but  Wotan 
was  impatient. 

"  Slavery  for  thee  —  worse  than  that  of  thy  Mimes  — 
or  else  give  me  the  Rheingold  quickly."   Alberich  remem- 


The  Rheingold  325 

bered  his  ring  —  the  Tarnhelm  hung  at  Loge's  girdle  — 
and  thought  he  might  safely  give  up  the  gold. 

"With  my  ring,  I  can  win  it  back  and  more  too,"  he 
thought;  so  he  said  to  Loge: 

"Well,  then,  rascal,  unbind  my  arm  that  I  may  summon 
the  Nibelungen."  Loge  loosened  one  arm  for  him,  Albe- 
rich  raised  the  ring  to  his  lips  and  called  upon  his  host  of 
imps.  Instantly  they  poured  from  the  crevasses  of  the 
rocks,  laden  with  the  Rheingold,  which  they  dumped  in  a 
great  heap  before  Wotan. 

"Ah,  thou  rogues,"  Alberich  shrieked  to  Loge  and  the 
W^ar-god;  "wait  till  my  time  comes! — I'll  make  you 
dance."  The  awful  little  fellow  roared  from  his  small 
throat  with  rage. 

"Never  mind  that:  we  shall  be  able  to  take  care  of 
ourselves,"  the  God  answered,  while  Alberich  lifted  the 
ring  and  the  Nibelungen  rushed  pell-mell  into  the  rocks 
again. 

"Being  a  God,  you  think  you  can  take  what  you  de- 
sire without  pay;  but  even  the  Gods  must  pay.     The 
gold  was  stolen  and  you  need  not  think  to  profit  by 
another's  roguery." 

"We  shall  chance  it,"  Wotan  replied,  with  a  smile  — 
"so  take  off  that  ring  of  thine — "  At  this  Alberich 
gave  a  frightful  scream. 

"Never!  I  will  give  my  life,  but  never  this  ring.  Oh, 
you  wretches!  Rascals!  V^illains!"  He  stopped  shout- 
ing for  sheer  lack  of  breath.  He  saw  before  him  the 
loss  of  that  which  was  to  win  him  back  his  gold  and 
power.  Wotan  made  a  motion  to  Loge,  who  laughed 
and  dragged  the  ring  from  the  dwarf's  hand,  Wotan  i)Ut 
the  magic  ring  u[)on  his  own  finger,  and  Alberich  nearly 
fainted  with  despair.     Gathering  his  scattered  senses,  he 


326  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

began  to  utter  a  frightful  eurse  upon  the  ring.  He  swore 
that  whoever  had  it  should  meet  ruin  and  death  instead 
of  power  and  happiness,  and  cursing  thus  in  a  way  to 
curdle  even  the  blood  of  the  Gods,  he  spat  at  Wotan. 

"Have  done,  thou  groundling,"  Loge  said.  "Go  to 
thy  hole."    Alberich  fled,  still  crying  curses  on  the  gold. 

When  Wotan  and  Loge  first  returned  to  earth  with  the 
imp,  it  had  been  twilight,  but  now,  just  before  night,  the 
light  grew  stronger,  and  when  the  mist  that  had  hung 
lightly  over  all  cleared  away,  Fricka,  Donner,  and  Froh 
could  be  seen  hurrying  to  the  tryst. 

"Thou  hast  brought  Freia's  ransom,"  Fricka  cried, 
joyously,  looking  at  the  great  golden  heap.  "Already, 
she  must  be  near,  because  see !  Do  we  not  all  grow  young- 
er?" she  asked  tremblingly,  looking  at  the  others. 

"It  is  true;  we  were  dying  and  now  I  feel  strength  in 
all  my  limbs,"  Donner  answered,  looking  in  amazement 
at  his  brother  Gods. 

"Yes — here  comes  Freia  with  Fafner  and  Fasolt." 
Freia  would  have  rushed  into  Fricka's  arms,  but  the 
Giants  still  held  her  fast. 

"She  is  not  thine  till  we  have  the  gold,"  they  declared; 
and  thrusting  his  staff  into  the  earth,  Fafner  said: 

"Thou  shalt  heap  the  Rheingold  as  high  as  my  staff  — 
which  is  as  high  as  the  Goddess,  and  the  heap  shall  be 
made  as  thick  and  as  broad  as  she.  When  this  is  done, 
she  is  thine."    Wotan  called  out  impatiently: 

"Heap  up  the  gold;  make  haste  and  be  rid  of  them." 
So  Loge  and  Froh  fell  to  heaping  the  gold  about  the  staff, 
while  the  Giants  stood  by  and  watched.  When  it  all 
was  piled,  Fafner  peered  through  the  heap  to  see  if  there 
was  an  unfilled  chink. 

"Not  enough,"  he  cried;     "I  can  still  see  the  gleam  of 


The  Rheingold  327 

Freia's  hair  —  which  is  finer  than  gold.  Throw  on  that 
trinket  at  thy  belt,"  he  signified  the  Tarnhelm  which 
hung  at  the  girdle  of  Loge.  Loge  threw  it  contemptu- 
ously upon  the  heap.  Then  Fafner  peeped  again.  "Ah! 
I  still  can  see  her  bright  eyes  —  more  gleaming  than  gold. 
Until  every  chink  is  closed  so  that  I  may  no  longer  see 
the  Goddess  and  thus  behold  what  I  have  sacrificed  for 
the  treasure,  it  will  not  do.  Throw  on  that  ring  thou 
wearest  on  thy  finger,"  he  called  to  Wotan. 

At  that  Wotan  became  furious. 

"The  ring.  Thou  shalt  never  have  the  ring  —  not 
if  thou  shouldst  carry  away  the  Eternals,  themselves." 
Fafner  seized  Freia  as  if  to  make  off  with  her. 

"What,  thou  cruel  God!  Thou  art  going  to  let  them 
have  our  sister,"  Fricka  screamed,  mingling  her  shrieks 
with  Freia's.  Donner  and  Froh  added  their  rage  to  hers, 
and  assailed  Wotan. 

"I'll  keep  my  ring,"  Wotan  shouted,  being  overcome 
with  the  power  it  would  give  to  him,  and  determined 
rather  to  lose  his  life. 

"Thou  wretched  God!  Thy  wickedness  means  the 
doom  of  the  Eternals,"  Fricka  again  screamed,  beside 
herself  with  the  shrieks  of  Freia.  As  the  Gods  were  about 
to  curse  Wotan,  a  bluish  light  glowed  from  a  fissure  in 
the  earth. 

"Look,"  cried  Loge,  and  all  turned  to  see,  while  Faf- 
ner, certain  of  one  treasure  or  the  other,  looked  and 
waited. 

The  bluish  light  grew  and  grew,  and  slowly  from  the 
ground  rose  a  frost-covered  woman,  her  glittering  icy 
hair  flowing  to  her  waist,  the  blue  light  about  her  caus- 
ing her  garments  of  frost  to  glance  and  shimmer  and 
radiate  sparkles  all  about  her. 


328  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Wotan,"  she  spoke,  "give  up  thy  ring."  All  were 
silent,  the  Gods  and  Giants  dumb  with  amazement. 

Again  she  spoke:  "It  is  Erda,  she  who  knows  the 
past,  present,  and  the  future.  Thy  ring  is  accursed. 
Ruin  and  disaster  follow  its  possession.  Give  up  thy 
ring!" 

"Who  art  thou?"     Wotan  asked  in  amazement. 

"I  am  mother  of  the  three  Fates  —  of  her  who  weaves 
—  her  who  watches  —  and  her  who  cuts  the  cord  of  life. 
They  are  my  daughters.  Thy  fate  is  spread  out  before 
me;  give  up  thy  ring."  The  Gods  trembled  before  one 
who  knew  both  good  and  evil.  Erda  had  sunk  into  the 
earth  as  far  as  her  breast. 

"Give  up  thy  ring,"  she  sighed  again,  and  disappeared 
in  the  earth,  as  Wotan  rushed  toward  her.  Donner  and 
Froh  held  him  back. 

"Touch  her  not  —  to  touch  her  would  mean  death!" 
they  cried.  Wotan  stood  thoughtfully,  looking  at  the 
spot  where  Erda  had  been,  till  presently,  with  a  quick 
movement,  he  threw  the  ring  upon  the  Rheingold. 

"Freia!"  he  cried,  "give  us  back  our  youth  and  life, 
and  thou.  Giants,  take  thy  treasure."  As  Freia  sprung 
toward  her  sister  Fricka  to  embrace  her,  the  Giants  fell 
to  quarrelling  over  the  gold. 

"Here,  thou!  give  me  my  share,"  Fafner  roared,  as 
Fasolt  was  trying  to  possess  himself  of  all  the  hoard.  Thus 
they  fought  while  the  Gods  looked  on. 

"Keep  the  ring,  Fafner,"  Loge  called.  "It  is  worth 
more  to  thee  than  all  the  gold."  But  the  struggle  became 
more  fierce  till  at  last  Fafner  with  one  great  blow  killed 
his  brother,  while  the  Gods  looked  on  in  horror. 

"Behold  how  Alberich's  curse  begins  to  work,"  Loge 
cried  to  Wotan. 


The  Rheingold  329 

"I  must  see  Erda  the  Wise  again,"  Wotan  answered, 
abstracted  and  troubled. 

"Nay,"  said  Fricka,  grasping  his  arm.  "See  thy 
palace  —  the  Walhall  of  the  Eternals  for  which  thou 
hast  nearly  caused  us  to  perish.  Thou  hast  got  what 
thou  desired,  yet  hast  not  even  entered  its  halls.  Come 
—  let  us  go  and  seek  peace  and  happiness."  Thus  urged, 
but  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  spot  where  Erda  had  dis- 
appeared, he  permitted  himself  to  be  led  toward  Walhall. 

"The  place  was  paid  for  with  an  evil  wage,"  one  of  the 
Gods  said,  moodily,  for  all  saw  the  mists  settling  upon  them 
and  felt  youth  and  hope  leaving  them.  They  had  not 
yet  eaten  of  their  apples  of  life,  but  Donner  at  last  aroused 
himself  and  strode  to  a  high  peak. 

"Come,"  he  cried,  in  a  mighty  voice;  and  swinging 
his  mammoth  hammer  above  his  head  he  called  again: 
"Cornel  Come,  ye  mists  of  all  the  earth!  Gather 
around  me.  Come,  ye  hovering  clouds,  ye  foreboding 
mists!  Come  with  lightnings  and  with  thunder  and 
sweep  the  heavens  clear,"  and  STvinging  his  hammer  he 
shouted:  "Heda,  heda,  heda!  To  me,  all  mists!  To 
me,  all  ye  vapours!  Donner  calls  his  hosts.  Vapours 
and  fogs;  wandering  mists,  heda,  heda,  heda!" 

The  black  clouds  gathered  about  him  till  all  the  Gods 
were  obscured,  and  as  they  enfolded  them,  even  the 
Thunder  God  was  hidden. 

Out  of  the  darkness  flashed  the  lightning.  Boom!  his 
hammer  crashed,  and  the  thunders  rolled  away  into  the 
hills. 

Boom!  the  hammer  crashed  against  the  rock  again, 
and  with  another  mighty  stroke  the  darkness  rolled  away, 
the  storm  cleared,  the  sun  shone  forth  and  at  Donner's 
feet  a  brDliant  rainbow-bridge  appeared.     It  bridged  the 


33©  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

way  from  peak  to  palace.  It  was  the  bridge  of  promise, 
and  to  it  Froh  pointed  the  way,  As  the  sim  beamed 
upon  the  earth,  the  pinnacles  and  roofs  of  Walhall  shone 
like  burnished  gold,  and  Wotan  took  his  Goddess  by 
the  hand  and  crossed  the  bridge  of  promise  while  the 
others  followed  in  his  train.    Loge,  going  last,  paused. 

"I  foresee  the  downfall  of  the  Eternals,"  he  murmured. 
"They  have  longed  for  ease  and  luxuries  which  they 
have  bought  with  evil  bargains.  Shall  I  go  with  them, 
or  shall  I  once  more  wander,  flickering,  dancing,  waver- 
ing, glancing  —  a  Spirit  of  Flame  that  shall  destroy  while 
others  build?  "  Thinking  of  what  was  to  come,  he  slowly 
crossed  the  rainbow-bridge  and  cast  in  his  lot  with  the 
Eternals. 

As  the  Gods  departed  for  Walhall,  the.  Rhein-daughters 
were  lamenting  their  loss;  but  Wotan  heard  and  turned 
to  chide  them.  (See  following  pages  —  in  which  the 
music  is  to  be  read  straight  across  Jive  pages :  jji  to  jjs 
inclusive.)  ^-- ^  __. .^---  — .       ->. 


The  Rheingold 


331 


Txr      1    (Die  drei  RhelnWchter  In  der  Tiefe  des  Tliales,  unslchtbar.) 
WOgl.   (^j.^g  (iij-fg  lihein-daughUrs  in  the  valley.) 


G>    — 


Rhein  —  goldl 


Rhein  —  goldl 


Wellg. 


mm 


Rhein  —  gold! 


Rhein  —  goldl 


Flossh. 


^sm 


-^ — 


-5^ 


Rhein  —  gold! 


Rhein  —  gold! 


-s^ 


s 


tf 


9— 5#- 


^^^3^ 


:te^5z:^=i*^=S: 


-•^ 


P'^ 


-~\-..—^ 


^Ufl^JL 


S— f- 


-•— ^ 


332  Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 


i 


KfefeS 


iM« 


s^ 


W 


:^=it 


-■^ — ^- 


gmle 


^?r^ 


—        Ies3     goldl 


how 


-*— »- 


fc^E 


guile        — 


^ 


less     goldl 


how 


r^fe^ 


-^^—^ 


gmle       —  —         less      goldl 


how 


I  i       I  ij  I    ~^a»-*J — 


dim. 


^ 


^ 


r— ^ — -i^ 


m^ 


!V  1 1      ^P 


^ 


:*=«:?= 


The  Rheingold 


333 


-?=*= 

^ 


brightly  and  dear 


-y-j 


shimmered  thy  beams    on 


tr 


=t: 


brightly  and  dear 


shimmered  thy  beams    on 


fj 


-(O-T 


bright 


-^^-^ 


=a=3e: 


—     ly  and  dear        shim  —  mered  thy 


334 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


(im  Begriil  den  Fnss  auf  die  Briicke  zu  setzen,  halt  an,  nnd 

VJotsSi.  wendet  sich  um.)  [round.) 

{pr€j>aHng  to  set  his  foot  on  the  bridge,  stops  and  turns 


What  plaints- 


-come  hither  to  me? 


Fed. 


The  Rheingold 


335 


m 


-9^ — •- 


^ 


thy  pure  lus  -  tre 


now  la  -  ment  me: 


*3 


-^^ 


'Sp — 0- 


thy  pure  lus  -  txe 


now  la  -  ment  me: 


^=^ 


^'fc^=g=g^"^"*^ 


:«_^_;_i_^ 


thy  pure  lus  -  tre 


i 


now  la  -  ment  me: 


(spjiht  in  das  Thai  hinab.) 
(looks  down  into  the  valley.) 


The 


THE  NIBELUNG  RING 
SECOND  DAY 
THE  VALKYRIE 

CHARACTERS  OF  THE  OPERA 

Siegmund. 

Hunding. 

Wotan. 

Sieglinde. 

Briinnhilde. 

Fricka. 

''  The    Valk3rries:   Gerhilde,    Ortlinde,     Schwertleite,    Waltraute, 
Helmwige,  Siegrune,  Grimgerde,  Rossweisse. 

ACT  I 

Far  oflf  in  the  forest  lived  a  huntsman  and  his  wife. 
The  huntsman  was  rough  and  brutal,  but  his  wife,  Sieg- 
linde, was  a  young  and  tender  creature  who  lived  far 
away  from  pleasure  and  friends,  while  her  husband  hunted 
all  day,  went  to  sleep  as  soon  as  he  had  his  supper,  and 
was  always  surly  and  rough. 

The  himtsman's  house  was  strangely  built,  with  the 
trunk  of  an  ash  tree  in  its  very  centre,  while  struck  deep 
into  its  bole  was  a  sword.  The  weapon  had  been  driven 
so  far  into  the  tree's  trunk,  that  only  its  hilt  was  to  be 
seen.  The  house  was  poor,  indeed,  with  only  a  table 
and  some  rough  benches  for  furniture,  and  at  one  side, 
a  fireplace  where  a  dull  fire  flickered. 

One  night,  while  Sieglinde  was  about  to  prepare  Hun- 
336 


The  Valkyrie  337 

ding's  supper,  a  handsome  youth  burst  into  the  hut,  seek- 
ing shelter  from  the  storm.  The  room  was  empty  and 
he  stood  at  the  open  door,  looking  about  for  some  one 
from  whom  he  might  ask  a  welcome;  but  all  was  silent 
and  deserted;  so  he  staggered  to  the  hearth  and  sank 
do^Ti  before  the  fire  upon  a  great  bearskin.  He  appeared 
to  be  exhausted  as  if  he  had  fled  far  from  some  per- 
sistent foe.  He  wore  no  armour,  had  no  arms,  and  was 
quite  defenceless  and  worn. 

"Whoever  owns  this  shelter  and  warmth  must  share  it 
with  me  for  a  moment,"  he  sighed:  "I  can  go  no  far- 
ther;" and  he  stretched  himself  before  the  welcome  blaze. 

Sieglinde,  hearing  a  sound  and  thinking  Hunding 
might  have  returned,  came  from  an  inner  room.  Upon 
opening  the  door  the  sight  that  met  her  eyes  was  the  man 
upon  her  hearth-stone. 

"Some  stranger  here!"  She  whispered  to  herself,  a 
little  afraid,  for  she  was  not  able  to  see  his  half-hidden 
face.  Poor  Siegmund  had  no  sooner  stretched  himself 
before  the  blaze  than  he  fell  asleep.  Presently  Sieglinde 
drew  nearer,  looked  into  his  face  and  saw  that  he  was  very 
handsome,  besides  being  gentle  in  appearance. 

"I  wonder  if  he  can  be  ill?"  she  thought,  compassion- 
ately; and  as  she  continued  to  look  into  his  face  a  great 
feeling  of  tenderness  and  love  for  him  crept  into  her  heart. 
Half  waking,  he  called  for  water,  and  Sieglinde  gave  it 
to  him  from  the  drinking  horn.  As  she  again  bent  to 
give  him  the  water,  he  saw  her  for  the  first  time,  and  he 
looked  at  her  thoughtfully  in  his  turn,  and  in  his  turn, 
too,  he  loved  her.  She  appeared  to  him  to  be  very 
beautiful  and  kind. 

"Whose  house  is  tliis?"  he  asked,  at  last,  watching 
Sieglinde  wherever  she  went. 


338  operas  Every  Child  Shottld  Know 

*'It  is  the  house  of  Hunding,  the  hunter,"  she  answered, 
"and  I  am  Sieglinde,  his  wife." 

"I  wonder  will  he  welcome  a  wounded  and  defenceless 
guest?"  he  asked  with  some  anxiety. 

"What?  art  thou  wounded?"  she  demanded  with 
solicitude.  "  Show  me  thy  wounds  that  I  may  help 
thee." 

"Nay,"  he  cried,  leaping  to  his  feet;  "my  wounds  are 
slight  and  I  should  still  have  been  fighting  my  foes,  but 
my  sword  and  shield  were  shattered  and  I  was  left  at 
their  mercy.  They  were  many  and  I  could  not  fight 
them  single-handed  and  weaponless.  I  must  now  be  on 
my  way.  I  am  but  an  ill-fated  fellow,  and  I  would  not 
bring  my  bad  luck  upon  thee  and  thy  house."  He 
started  to  go  out  of  the  door. 

"Thou  canst  not  bring  ill-fate  to  me,"  she  answered, 
looking  at  him  sadly.     "I  am  not  happy  here." 

"If  that  be  true,"  he  said,  pausing  to  regard  her  ten- 
derly, "then  I  shall  remain,"  and  he  turned  back  into 
the  house. 

Scene  II 

At  that  very  moment,  Hunding  was  heard  returning. 
Sieglinde,  hearing  him  lead  his  horse  to  the  stable,  opened 
the  door  for  him,  as  was  her  wont,  and  waited  for  him  to 
come  in.  When  Hunding  finally  appeared,  he  paused 
at  seeing  Siegmund. 

"Whom  have  we  here? "  he  asked  his  wife,  suspiciously. 

"A  wounded  man  whom  I  found  lying  upon  the  hearth- 
stone. I  gave  him  water,  and  welcomed  him  as  a  guest." 
Hunding,  hearing  this,  hung  his  sword  and  shield  upon  a 
branch  of  the  dead  ash  tree,  and  taking  off  his  armour, 
handed  it  to  Sieglinde. 


The  Valkyrie  339 

"Set  the  meal  for  us,"  he  said  to  her  in  a  surly  tone, 
looking  sharply  at  the  stranger.  Sieglinde  hung  the 
armour  upon  the  tree  and  began  to  prepare  the  meal. 

"You  seem  to  have  come  a  long  way,"  said  Hunding 
at  last  to  Siegmund.     "Have  you  no  horse?" 

"I  have  come  over  mountain  and  through  brake.  I 
know  not  whither  the  journey  has  led  me.  I  would  find 
that  out  from  thee;  and  may  I  ask  who  gives  me  shelter?" 

"I  am  Hunding  whose  clan  reaches  far,  and  who  has 
many  kinsmen.     Now  for  thyself?  " 

"I,  too,  have  kinsmen  who  war  for  freedom.  My 
father  was  a  wolf  and  my  mother  is  dead.  I  am  the  son 
of  the  Walsungs  —  a  warring  race.  Once  my  father,  the 
wolf,  and  I  wandered  together  in  the  forest.  We  went 
to  hunt,  and  upon  our  return  we  found  our  hut  laid  waste 
and  my  mother  burned  to  ashes.  Then,  sadly,  my  father 
and  I  went  forth  again." 

"I  have  heard  of  this  wolfling,"  Hunding  answered, 
frowning.  "A  wild  and  wolfish  race,  truly!  Tell  me, 
stranger,  where  roams  thy  father,  now?" 

"He  became  the  game  of  the  Neidlings  —  they  who 
killed  my  mother;  but  many  a  Neidling  has  been  destroyed 
in  his  pursuit.  At  last  my  father  must  have  been  slain.  I 
was  torn  from  him,  but  later  escaped  from  my  captors 
and  went  in  search  of  him.  I  found  only  his  empty  skin, 
and  so  I  was  left  alone  in  the  forest.  I  began  to  long  for 
the  companionship  of  men  and  women;  but  I  was  mis- 
trusted; whatever  I  thought  right,  others  thought  wrong, 
and  that  which  others  thought  well  of  appeared  to  me  to 
be  evil.  Thus,  in  all  my  wanderings,  I  found  no  friend. 
In  truth  my  name  is  Wehwalt:  Woe.  I  may  never  find 
love  and  kindness.  Foes  wait  ever  upon  my  track.  Since 
I  am  a  wolf's  son,  who  will  believe  that  I  have  loving 


340  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

thoughts?"  Hereupon,  Sieglinde  looked  at  the  hand- 
some yet  sorrowful  stranger  with  great  tenderness. 

"Tell  us,  guest,  how  thy  weapons  were  lost?"  Hun- 
ding  insisted, 

"Willingly  I  shall  tell  thee.  A  sorrowing  maid  cried 
for  help.  Her  kinsmen  thought  to  bind  her  in  wedlock 
to  one  she  did  not  love;  and  when  she  cried  to  me  to  free 
her,  I  had  to  fight  all  her  kinsmen  single-handed.  I  slew 
her  brothers  and  while  protecting  her  as  she  bent  above 
their  bodies,  her  people  broke  my  shield  and  I  had  to 
flee." 

"Now  I  know  you,"  Hunding  shouted,  rising  and  glar- 
ing at  the  young  wolfling.  "I  was  called  to  battle  with  my 
kinsmen  —  they  were  your  foes!  He  who  fought  us  fled 
before  I  could  reach  the  battling  place,  and  here  I  have 
returned  to  find  my  enemy  in  my  house!  Let  me  tell 
you,  wolf-man,  my  house  shall  hold  you  safe  for  the  night, 
since  you  came  here  wounded  and  defenceless;  but  to- 
morrow you  must  defend  yourself,  for  I  will  kill  you." 

At  that  Hunding  moved  threateningly  toward  Sieg- 
mund,  but  Sieglinde  stepped  between  them,  regarding 
Siegmund  with  a  troubled  face. 

"As  for  thee,"  said  Hunding  to  her  roughly;  "have  off 
with  thee!  Set  my  night-draught  here  and  get  thee  to 
bed!" 

Sieglinde  took  from  the  cupboard  a  box  of  spices  from 
which  she  shook  some  into  the  drinking  horn  in  which 
she  w^as  making  the  night-draught.  All  the  while  she 
moved  about  she  tried  to  direct  Siegmund's  eye  toward 
the  sword  hilt  which  gleamed  upon  the  ash  tree;  but 
Hunding  was  not  pleased  with  her  and  drove  her  from 
the  room  to  her  bed-chamber.  Then  taking  the  armour 
from  the  tree  he  glowered  darkly  at  Siegmund. 


The  Valkyrie  341 

"Look  well  to  thyself,  to-morrow,"  he  said;  "for  I 
mean  to  kill  thee,"  Then  he  followed  Sieglinde  to  the 
inner  chamber. 

Scene  III 

Siegmund  sat  down,  sad  and  lonely,  while  the  lights 
burned  out  and  the  fire  flickered  lower.  The  wolf-man 
with  his  head  in  his  hands  thought  gloomily  upon  his 
unhappy  fate.  Never  was  he  to  find  friends,  though  he 
was  true  and  honest  and  meant  harm  to  no  man. 

"I  have  no  sword,"  he  thought;  "hence  I  cannot  defend 
myself  against  Hunding.  If  only  I  could  find,  somewhere 
in  the  world,  that  enchanted  sword  of  which  my  father 
told  me!"  he  cried,  aloud  in  his  despair.  Suddenly,  the 
logs  in  the  fire  fell  apart  and  the  flame  flared  high  —  it 
was  Loge  doing  the  bidding  of  Wotan,  who,  from  Walhall, 
was  watching  the  movements  of  the  Universe  —  and  in 
the  blaze  the  sword  hilt  could  be  seen  shining  upon  the 
tree.  The  gleam  caught  Siegmund's  eye,  but  he  did  not 
know  what  he  saw. 

"What  is  that  so  bright  and  shining?"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "Ah,  it  must  be  the  memory  of  dear  Sieglinde's 
brilliant  eyes,  which  rested  so  often  upon  that  spot  before 
she  left  the  room.  It  is  because  I  love  her  and  think  of 
her  that  I  fancy  I  see  a  jewel  shining  in  the  dark."  Mus- 
ing thus  he  became  sadder  than  before.  Again  Loge 
flamed  up  high,  and  again  Siegmund  saw  the  gleam  of  the 
sword,  but  still- he  did  not  know  what  he  saw,  so  the 
lonely  wolf-man  v/as  again  left  in  darkness.  Then  the 
chamber  door  softly  opened  and  Sieglinde  stole  into  the 
room.     She  had  left  Hunding  sleeping. 

"Guest,"  she  whispered.  "Art  thou  sleeping?" 
Siegmund  started  up  joyfully. 


342  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"It  is  Sieglinde?"  he  whispered  back. 

"Listen!  Make  no  sound.  Hunding  lies  sleeping, 
overcome  by  the  heavy  drink  that  I  have  given  him. 
Now,  in  the  night,  fly  and  save  thy  life.  I  have  come  to 
show  thee  a  weapon.  Oh,  if  thou  couldst  make  it  thine! 
Many  have  tried,  but  all  have  failed.  It  is  only  the 
strongest  in  all  the  worid  who  can  draw  it  from  its  strange 
sheath."  Siegmund's  glance  wandered  to  where  she 
pointed,  and  rested  upon  the  sword  hilt  which  the  flame 
had  shown  him. 

"I  was  given  by  my  kinsmen  to  the  cruel  Hunding," 
she  continued;  "and  while  I  sat  sad  and  sorrowful 
on  my  wedding  night,  and  my  kinsmen  gathered 
around  rejoicing,  there  entered  an  old  man,  clad  all  in 
gray,  his  hat  pulled  low  over  his  face,  and  one  eye  hid- 
den; but  the  other  eye  flashed  fear  to  all  men's  souls  but 
mine.  While  others  trembled  with  fear,  I  trembled  with 
hope;  because  on  me  his  eye  rested  lovingly.  He  carried 
a  sword  in  his  hand,  and  with  a  mighty  stroke,  buried 
it  deep  in  the  ash  tree. 

"'Only  he  who  has  a  giant's  strength  can  draw  that 
sword,'  he  cried.  After  that,  guests  came  and  went, 
came  and  went,  tried  and  tried;  but  none  could  draw  the 
sword.  So  there  it  cleaves  until  this  day.  Ah!  if  thou 
couldst  draw  it  out  and  save  thy  life!  He  who  draws  that 
sword  shall  also  deliver  me  from  Hunding,"  she  added, 
wistfully. 

At  that,  Siegmund  leaped  up  and  clasped  her  in  his 
arms: 

"Then  in  truth  shall  I  draw  it.  It  is  I  who  shall  free 
thee.  And  who  but  the  God  Wotan  put  the  weapon 
there  for  thy  deliverance?  Thou  sayst  he  had  but  one 
eye!    Did  not  Wotan  give  one  of  his  to  win  his  wife, 


The  Valkyrie  343 

Fricka?  Thou  hast  been  guarded  by  the  Gods  them- 
selves," he  cried,  and  again  clasping  her  to  his  breast  he 
promised  to  free  her  forever  from  Hunding.  "It  is  the 
weapon  told  of  by  my  father,  the  wolf,"  he  declared;  and 
while  they  stood  thus,  the  outer  door  swung  noiselessly 
open  and  the  moonlight  streamed  in. 

"Ah!  It  is  the  Spring,"  he  whispered.  "The  beau- 
tiful Spring!  She  has  entered  unannounced  to  bring  us 
cheer  and  hope.  It  is  an  omen  of  good.  I  am  no  longer 
sad.  I  have  found  one  to  love  who  loves  me,  and  a 
weapon  to  defend  her."  With  a  mighty  wrench  Siegmund 
pulled  the  sword  from  its  bed  and  swung  it  above  them. 

ACT  n 

When  Sieglinde  and  Siegmund  had  fled  and  while  they 
were  wandering,  waiting  for  the  battle  which  was  certain 
to  occur  between  Siegmund  and  Hunding,  Wotan  was  pre- 
paring to  send  out  his  war-maid,  Briinnhilde,  from  the 
palace  of  the  Gods  —  Walhall.  The  warrior-maid  had 
been  given  him  by  Erda,  and  she  went  forth  each  day  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth,  to  guard  all  warriors.  When  men 
died  in  battle,  she  and  her  eight  sisters,  who  were  called 
the  Valkyries,  bore  those  heroes  to  Wotan,  and  they  dwelt 
in  Walhall  forever.  It  was  on  the  day  of  the  battle  that 
Briinnhilde  and  Wotan  came  to  a  high  rock,  armed  and 
prepared  for  war.     Wotan  carried  a  magic  spear. 

"Listen,  Briinnhilde!  Thou  art  to  hasten.  There 
is  this  day  to  be  a  great  battle  between  Siegmund,  who  is 
of  the  Wiilsung  race,  and  Hunding.  As  for  Hunding,  I 
want  him  not  in  Walhall.  Yet  it  is  Siegmund  whom 
thou  art  to  shield  in  the  strife.  Take  thy  horse  and  hurry 
forth."    Briinnhilde,  springing  upon  her  beautiful  horse, 


344  Operas  Every  Child  Shoidd  Know 

Grane,  flew  shouting  over  the  rocks,  loudly  calling  her 
battle-cry: 

"Ho-jo-to-ho!  Ho-jo-to-ho!  Heia-ha,  heia-ha,  heia- 
ha!"  This  loud  clear  cry,  rang  from  peak  to  peak,  from 
crag  to  crag,  while  the  maid  on  her  enchanted  horse  flew 
away  to  summon  her  sisters.  On  a  far  peak  she  paused, 
and  called  back  to  Wotan: 

"Have  a  care  war-father!  Thy  Goddess,  Fricka,  comes 
drawn  in  her  car  by  rams.  She  will  give  thee  a  great 
battle  I  fear;  she  swings  her  golden  lash,  and  makes  the 
poor  beasts  dance.  I  tell  thee,  war-father,  thy  Goddess 
has  some  quarrel  with  thee!"  and  laughing,  Briinnhilde 
flew  on  her  way.  Fricka's  rams,  scrambhng  over  the  rocks, 
dragging  her  car  behind  them,  landed  her  close  to  Wotan. 

"So,  Wotan,  I  must  look  the  world  over  for  thee!" 
she  cried  angrily.  "I  have  no  time  to  chide  thee,  how- 
ever. The  hunter  Hunding  has  called  to  me  for  help. 
He  is  sorely  pressed.  Siegmund  is  his  foe,  and  has  taken 
the  magic  sword  from  the  ash  tree.  With  that  sword  he 
is  invincible.  He  has  carried  off  Hunding's  wife,  and  I, 
the  Goddess  of  Home  and  Domesticity,  must  avenge  him. 
I  have  come  to  warn  thee  not  to  interfere  for  Siegmund. 
I  shall  help  Hunding." 

"I  know  of  thy  Hunding,"  Wotan  answered,  frowning. 
"And  I  know  no  harm  of  Siegmund.  It  was  the  beautiful 
Spring  which  united  the  pair.  Am  I  to  overwhelm  these 
two  with  ruin  because  thy  cruel  Hunding  has  come  to 
thee  for  help?  Spring's  enchantment  was  upon  Sieglinde 
and  Siegmund." 

"What,  ye  speak  thus  to  me,  Wotan?  When  those 
two  had  been  united  in  holy  wedlock ?" 

"I  do  not  call  so  hateful  a  union,  'holy',"  Wotan 
answered,  sternly. 


The  Valkyrie 


345 


"Thy  words  are  shameful.  I  have  come  to  tell  thee 
thou  shalt  take  back  the  magic  power  thou  hast  given  to 
Siegmund  with  the  sword.  I  know  well  he  is  thy  son, 
and  that  thou  wandered  upon  the  earth  as  a  wolf,  leaving 
behind  thee  this  sword,  invincible,  for  thy  beloved  wolf- 
boy,  but  I  declare  to  you,  I  shall  give  you  henceforth  no 
peace  till  the  sword  is  taken  from  him.  Hunding  shall 
have  his  revenge!  The  conduct  of  these  mortals  is  shame- 
ful. But  when  Gods,  such  as  thou,  misbehave,  what  can 
be  expected  of  mere  mortals?"  Fricka  sighed.  "How- 
ever thou  may  seek  to  free  thyself  or  defend  thyself,  I  am 
thy  eternal  bride;  thou  canst  not  get  away  from  me,  and 
if  thou  wouldst  have  peace,  thou  wilt  heed  me.  See  to  it 
that  the  v,-oIf-man  loses  his  life  in  this  encounter."  Fricka, 
for  all  the  world  like  a  shrewish,  scolding  mortal  wife, 
quite  overwhelmed  the  unhappy  War-god. 

"But  what  can  I  do,  since  I  should  have  to  fight  against 
my  own  enchantm.ents? "  Wotan  urged,  hoping  to  save 
his  beloved  wolf -son. 

"Thou  shalt  disenchant  the  sword.  The  magic  thou 
gavest  thou  canst  destroy."  The  quarrel  was  at  its 
height,  when  Briinnhilde's  cry  could  be  heard  afar. 


ho- jo  —  to-ho 


he-ia — 


346 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


ha —  ha! ho — Jo— ho! 

"  Ho-jo-to-ho-ho-to-jo-ho !  Heia-ha,  heia-ha,  heia-ha ! " 
Briinnhilde  came  leaping  down  the  mountain  again, 
upon  her  horse,  Grane.  Seeing  a  quarrel  was  in  prog- 
ress between  the  Goddess  and  Wotan  she  became 
quiet,  dismounted,  and  led  her  horse  to  a  cave  and  hid 
him  there. 

"There,  Wotan,  is  thy  war-maid  now.  Pledge  me  thine 
oath  that  the  magic  sword  which  Siegmund  bears,  shall 
lose  its  virtue!  Give  thy  war-maid  instruction."  Fricka 
urged  this  in  a  manner  calculated  to  show  Wotan  there 
would  be  no  more  peace  in  Walhall  if  he  flouted  his  wife. 
He  sat  down  in  dejection. 

"Take  my  oath,"  he  said  miserably;  and  thus  Sieg- 
linde's  and  Siegmund's  doom  was  sealed.  Fricka  tri- 
umphantly mounted  into  the  car  drawn  by  rams,  and  in 
passing,  spoke  to  Briinnhilde. 


The  Valkyrie  347 

"Go  to  thy  war-father  and  get  his  commands." 
Briinnhilde,  wondering,  went  to  Wotan. 

Scene  II 

"Father,  Fricka  has  won  in  some  encounter  with  thee, 
else  she  would  not  go  out  so  gaily  and  thou  sit  there  so 
dejected.  Tell  me,  thy  war-child,  what  troubles 
thee!" 

At  first  Wotan  shook  his  head,  but  presently  his 
despair  urged  him  to  speak  and  he  told  Briinnhilde  the 
story  of  the  Rheingold  and  the  ring  of  the  Nibelungs. 

"I  coveted  what  was  not  mine,"  he  said.  "I  got  the 
gold  from  Alberich  and  in  turn  Fafner  and  Fasolt  got  it 
from  me.  Fafner  killed  his  brother  for  love  of  the  gold, 
and  then  turning  himself  into  a  dragon,  set  himself  to 
watch  over  the  gold  forever.  It  was  decreed  by  the  Fates 
—  Erda's  daughters  —  that  when  Alberich  should  find  a 
woman  to  love  him,  the  overthrow  of  the  Gods  was  at 
hand.  Alberich  had  bought  love  with  the  treasure. 
Our  only  \\oy)c  lay  in  the  victory  of  some  hero  in  whose 
life  I  had  no  part.  I  left  for  such  a  one  a  magic  sword, 
so  placed  that  only  the  strongest  could  draw  it.  He  had 
to  help  himself  before  I  gave  him  help.  Siegmund  has 
drawn  the  magic  sword.  If  he  had  won  in  the  battle 
with  Hunding,  the  Eternals  would  have  been  saved;  but 
Fricka  demands  that  Hunding  shall  win  the  fight  and  a 
God  must  sacrifice  all  Walhall  if  his  wife  demands  it.  He 
had  better  ])e  dead  than  browbeaten  forever."  Wotan 
almost  wc[)t  in  his  anguish.  ''So  must  the  Eternals  face 
extermination.     A  wife  can  crush  even  a  God!" 

"What  shall  I  do  for  thee,  Father  Wotan? "Brunnhilde 
cried  distractedly. 


34^  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Obey  Fricka  this  day  in  all  things.  Desert  Siegmund 
and  fight  on  Hunding's  side."     Wo  tan  sighed  heavily. 

"Nay,  I  shall  defy  thy  commands  for  once,"  she  de- 
clared, but  at  this  Wotan  rose  in  wrath. 

"Obey  me!  —  or  thy  punishment  shall  be  terrible.  To 
disobey  would  be  treason  to  the  Gods."    He  strode  away. 

Briinnhilde  put  on  her  armour  once  more. 

"Why  is  my  armour  so  heavy,  and  why  does  it  hurt  me 
so?"  she  asked  of  herself.  "Alas!  It  is  because  I  donned 
it  in  an  evil  cause."  Slowly  she  went  toward  the  cave 
where  her  enchanted  horse,  Grane,  was  hidden. 

Scene  III 

Now  that  the  Gods  had  forsaken  them,  the  two  lovers, 
Sieglinde  and  Siegmund,  were  in  great  danger,  and  Sieg- 
linde,  without  knowing  why,  was  filled  anew  with  fright. 
She  hurried  painfully  along,  assisted  by  Siegmund  who 
was  all  the  time  lovingly  urging  her  to  stop  and  rest. 

"Nay,"  she  answered  always;  "I  cannot  rest  because 
I  hear  Hunding's  hounds  who  would  tear  thee  in  pieces, 
if  they  caught  thee."  At  that  very  moment  they  heard 
the  blast  of  Hunding's  horn  in  the  distance. 

"There  he  comes  with  all  his  kinsmen  at  his  back,  and 
they  will  surely  overwhelm  thee,"  she  cried  in  distress; 
and  fell  fainting  with  fear. 

As  Siegmund  placed  her  tenderly  upon  the  ground, 
Briinnhilde  came  toward  them  from  the  cavern,  leading 
her  horse. 

Scene  IV 

She  regarded  Siegmund  sorrowfully  and  said  in  a  troubled 
voice: 


The  Valkyrie  349 

"I  have  come  to  call  thee  hence,  Siegmund."  The 
youth  stared  at  her  curiously. 

"Who  art  thou?"  he  asked. 

"I  am  Briinnhilde,  the  Valkyrie;  and  whoever  I  look 
upon  must  die." 

"Not  I,"  Siegmund  answered,  incredulously.  "I 
fight  with  the  enchanted  sword  of  Wotan.  My  life  is 
charmed.     I  cannot  die." 

"Alas!"  she  answered,  then  paused.  Presently  she 
spoke  again.  "Whoever  looks  upon  me  must  die,  Sieg- 
mund," she  said  earnestly. 

"When  I  have  died,  where  do  I  go?"  he  asked.  He 
was  not  sad  at  the  thought  of  giving  up  a  life  so  full  of 
strife. 

"Thou  goest  to  Walhall  to  dwell  with  the  Eternals." 

"Do  I  find  there  Wotan,  and  the  Walsungs  —  my 
kinsmen  who  have  gone  before  me?" 

"Aye,"  she  answered  —  "And  Wish-maidens  to  fill 
thy  drinking  cup  and  to  cheer  thee.  It  is  the  home  where 
heroes  dwell,  forever  and  forever." 

Siegmund 's  face  glowed  with  hope. 

"And  Sieglinde?"  he  cried. 

"Ah,  not  she.     She  must  stay  yet  a  while  behind  thee." 

Then  a  terrible  change  came  upon  Siegmund  and  he 
frowned  at  the  Valkyrie. 

"Begone I  Thinkest  thou  I  go  to  thy  Walhall  without 
Sieglinde?  Begone!  What  do  you  of  the  Gods  know 
of  love  such  as  ours.  Walhall  is  not  for  me.  I  carry  the 
enchanted  sword  given  by  Wotan.  This  day  I  kill 
Hunding,  and  live  my  life  in  peace  with  Sieglinde." 

Briinnhilde   could   no   longer   let  him  deceive  himself. 

"The  enchantment  of  thy  sword  is  gone!"  Siegmund 
started.     "Wotan  deserts  thee.     To-day  thou  must  go 


350  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

hence  with  me.  Hun  ding  will  kill  thee."  For  a  moment 
Siegmund  regarded  the  Valkyrie,  then  drawing  his  sword, 
he  turned  to  where  Sieglinde  was  lying,  still  unconscious. 

"What  wouldst  thou  do?"  Briinnhilde  cried. 

"Kill  Sieglinde,  to  save  her  from  Hunding's  wrath." 

"Leave  her  to  me,"  Briinnhilde  entreated,  moved  with 
pity.  "I  swear  to  thee  I  will  preserve  her.  Leave  her 
with  me." 

"With  thee — when  Wotan  himself  has  tricked  me? 
Nay.  The  Gods  are  no  longer  trustworthy,"  he  said, 
bitterly,  turning  again  to  Sieglinde.  Briinnhilde,  over- 
come with  pity  and  admiration  for  such  devotion  between 
mortals  —  a  love  more  steadfast  than  the  promises  of 
the  Gods  themselves  —  sprang  forward  to  stay  him. 

"Do  not!  I  will  preserve  thee  —  thee  and  thy  Sieg- 
linde. I  am  here  to  guard  Hunding,  but  it  shall  not  be 
so.  I  will  shield  thee  in  the  fight.  I  will  brave  the 
wrath  of  Wotan  for  such  love  as  thine  and  Sieglinde's. 
If  the  magic  of  thy  sword  is  destroyed,  the  power  of  my 
shield  is  not.  I  will  guard  thee  through  the  fight.  Up! 
Renew  thy  courage.  The  day  is  thine,  and  the  fight  is 
at  hand."  Mounting  her  horse,  Grane,  the  Valkyrie  flew 
over  the  mountain  tops  and  disappeared.  Siegmund's 
despair  was  turned  to  joy  and  again  hearing  Hunding's 
horn,  he  turned  to  go,  leaving  Sieglinde  to  sleep  till  the 
fight  was  over.  The  storm-clouds  gathered,  and  all  the 
scene  became  hidden. 

Scene  V 

Lightning  flashed  and  thunder  rolled  ominously.  Sieg- 
mimd  bent  to  kiss  Sieglinde  and  disappeared  in  the  black- 
ness of  the  storm.    All  the  heavens  and  earth  spoke  of  war 


The  Valkyrie  351 

and  death.  The  air  grew  thick  with  vapours,  and  Hght- 
ning  cleft  the  hills.  Siegmund  called  through  the  dark- 
ness to  Hunding  to  face  him  for  the  fight,  and  at  the  sound 
of  his  voice  and  the  horns  and  the  shouting  of  battle,  Sieg- 
linde  awoke.  She  could  see  naught,  but  could  hear  the 
sounds  of  war.  Her  fear  for  Siegmund  returned.  She 
shrieked  and  ran  toward  the  storm-shrouded  mountain. 
The  skies  were  rent,  and  high  upon  the  rocky  peak,  Hun- 
ding and  Siegmund  stood  forth  in  battle. 

"The  Goddess  Fricka  is  with  me!"  Hunding  shouted. 

''Away  with  thy  Goddess!  It  is  the  Gods  who  support 
me"'  Siegmund  answered,  bravely  swinging  his  sword. 
Instantly  Briinnhilde  floated  above  the  warriors.  She 
interposed  her  burnished  shield  between  Siegmund  and 
the  sword  of  Hunding,  and  cried: 

"Thrust,  Siegmuiid!  Thy  sword  shall  preserve  thee!" 
Instantly  the  whole  earth  was  filled  \\-ith  a  dazzling  fire, 
in  which  Wotan  appeared,  foaming  mth  rage.  He  thrust 
his  spear  to  catch  the  blow  of  the  wolfling's  sword,  which 
broke  in  half  upon  it;  while  Hunding 's  point  pierced 
Siegmund's  breast.  Briinnhilde  fell  at  Wotan's  feet, 
while  with  a  shriek  Sieglinde  m  the  glade  below  fell  as  if 
dead.  While  Wotan  faced  Hunding,  Briinnhilde  rushed 
down  the  mountain  to  save  Sieglinde.  Taking  her  in  her 
arms  she  si)rang  upon  Grane  and  flew  for  the  rock  of  the 
Valkyries. 

"Now  go,  thou  miserable  bcmg,"  Wotan  thundered 
at  Hunding,  and  waving  his  spear  at  him,  the  man  fell 
dead. 

"Now  Briinnhilde,  for  thee  I  and  for  thy  punishment!" 
he  cried  in  an  awful  voice,  and  amidst  the  crashing  of 
Donner's  hammer  against  the  sides  of  the  universe  and 
flames  from  heaven,  Wotan  disai)i)eared. 


352  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


ACT  in 

Away  on  a  far  mountain,  the  Valkyries  were  waiting 
for  Briinnhilde's  coming.  They  were  her  sisters:  Ger- 
hilde,  Ortlinde,  Waltraute  and  Schwertleite,  seated  upon 
a  high  place,  dressed  in  their  armour.  From  time  to 
time  they  gave  the  cry  of  the  Valkyries: 

*'Ho-jo-to-ho!  Ho-jo-to-ho!  Heia-ha,  heia-ha,  heia- 
ha!"  Soon  this  call  was  answered  by  Helmwige,  who 
could  be  seen  coming  on  her  horse,  with  a  slain  warrior 
tied  to  her  saddle. 

The  Valkyries  were  arriving  from  the  four  quarters 
of  the  earth  —  each  bearing  a  slain  warrior.  At  last, 
all  but  Brunnhilde  had  come. 

"We  cannot  go  to  Wotan  without  her,"  they  said 
among  themselves.  '*  She  is  his  favourite  and  she  brings 
to  him  those  heroes  he  most  desires.  We  must  not  start 
for  Walhall  till  she  has  come."  Thus  they  talked  among 
themselves,  now  and  then  sounding  their  cry  and  laugh- 
ing over  the  misfortunes  of  mortals.    At  last  one  called: 

"Look!  Brunnhilde  is  coming  in  wildest  haste.  Look, 
look!  Her  pace  is  so  furious  that  the  horse  staggers. 
What  lies  on  her  saddle?"  All  peered  in  amazement 
into  the  vale  below. 

"It  is  no  man,"  one  cried. 

"It  is  a  maid/'  shouted  another. 

"She  does  not  greet  us."  They  ran  to  help  her  from 
her  horse,  shouting  their  war-cry  as  they  went,  and  re- 
turned supporting  Sieglinde,  while  they  surrounded 
Brunnhilde  and  questioned  her  wildly. 

" Shield  us !"  she  cried  to  them.  "I  am  pursued.  The 
war-father  is  coming  after  me.     He  is  foaming  with  rage. 


The   Valkyrie  353 

Hide  us,  shield  us."    All  looked  at  her  in  consternation. 

"What  hast  thou  done?"  they  questioned. 

"Who  can  shield  thee  from  our  father's  wrath,  Briinn- 
hilde?"  one  cried. 

"I  see  him  not,"  one  who  was  on  the  look-out  called. 
"But  a  fearful  storm  gathers." 

"It  is  Wotan.  Our  father  rides  upon  the  storm.  Oh, 
shield  this  poor  wife,"  Briinnhiide  called. 

"Alas!  the  storm  increases." 

"Then  he  is  near.  His  anger  increases  as  he  comes," 
Briinnhiide  cried  in  terror.  "Now  who  will  lend  me  a 
horse  to  put  this  poor  wife  upon?"  None  dared  brave 
the  ^-rath  of  the  God. 

"All  of  you  are  silent,"  she  said  at  last,  in  despair. 
Turning  to  the  fainting  Sieglinde,  she  cried: 

"Up!  Take  the  way  to  the  east.  There  dwells  the 
dragon,  Fafner,  and  near  him  Alberich  also  watches. 
That  is  the  only  place  in  the  world  Wotan  avoids.  Go 
thou,  and  I  will  detain  the  Father  till  thou  art  far  and 
safe.  Take  these  pieces  of  the  magic  sword.  I  snatched 
them  when  Siegmund  fell.  Give  them  to  thy  son  and 
Siegmund's,  and  that  son  shall  be  named  Siegfried.  With 
these  sword-pieces  again  made  whole,  the  sword  shall  win 
the  world  for  that  son  of  thine."  With  these  words  she 
turned  Sieglinde's  face  toward  the  east,  while  she  herself 
stood  waiting. 

Sieglinde  was  no  sooner  gone  than  the  storm  grew  more 
fierce,  and  Wotan  called  with  a  loud  voice  from  the  clouds: 

"Briinnhiide!"  Full  of  fear  she  sought  to  hide  her- 
self in  the  midst  of  her  sisters. 

"He  is  coming,  sister,"  they  shouted.  All  the  forest 
about  them  was  lighted  up  with  a  lurid  fire,  and  Wotan 
came  raging  through  the  midst  of  it. 


354  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Scene  II 

Striding  from  the  wood  he  called  again: 

"Come  forth!  Naught  can  save  thee  from  thy  pun- 
ishment." Without  hope,  Briinnhilde  came  from  the 
company  of  her  sisters  and  threw  herself  on  her  knees 
before  Wotan.  He  looked  at  her  in  pity  because  he  loved 
her  dearly. 

''For  thy  treason  to  the  Eternals  and  to  me,  I  doom 
thee  to  roam  the  earth  as  a  mortal  woman.  I  take  thy 
glory  from  thee.  Walhall  shall  know  thee  no  more. 
Thou  art  forever  cast  out  from  us.  Henceforth  thy  fate 
shall  be  to  spin  the  flax,  to  sit  by  the  hearth,  a  slave  to 
man."  He  could  not  look  upon  her  because  he  loved  her 
so. 

At  this,  all  the  Valkyries  cried  out. 

''Away!"  he  called  to  them.  "Her  punishment  is 
fixed  and  whoever  tries  to  help  her  shall  share  her  fate." 

At  this  threat,  all  fled  wildly  to  their  horses,  and  shriek- 
ing, flew  away,  leaving  behind  them  a  sound  of  rushing 
and  a  streaming  light. 

Scene  III 

Wotan  regarded  Briinnhilde  mournfully.  She  raised 
herself  and  tried  to  move  him  with  her  tears. 

"If  I  am  doomed  to  become  mortal,  to  suffer  all  mor- 
tals' ills  and  woes,  remember  still  that  my  treason  was 
partly  for  love  of  thee.  I  knew  Siegmund  was  dear  to 
thee.  Wilt  thou  not  pity  me  a  little?"  Her  pleading 
was  so  mournful  that  Wotan  at  last  listened  to  it. 

"Briinnhilde,  I  will  guard  thee  from  the  worst.     Since 


The  Valkyrie  355 

thou  must  become  as  mortals  are,  and  the  slave  of  man, 
I  will  guard  thee  from  all  but  the  brave,  I  will  enchant 
thee  into  a  sleep  from  which  only  a  hero  can  wake  thee. 
Fire .  shall  surround  thee,  and  he  who  would  win  thee 
must  pass  through  the  flame."  He  kissed  her  on  the 
eyelids  which  began  to  droop  as  with  sleep,  and  he  laid 
her  gently  down  upon  a  little  mound  beneath  a  fir  tree. 
He  closed  her  helmet  and  laid  upon  her  her  shining  shield, 
which  completely  covered  her  body.  Then  he  mounted 
a  height. 

"Loge! "  he  called,  and  struck  the  rock  three  times  with 
his  spear.  "Loge,  Loge,  Loge!  Hear!  Once  I  sum- 
moned thee,  a  flickering  flame,  to  be  companion  of  the 
Gods.  Now,  I  summon  thee  to  appear  and  wind  thy- 
self in  wavering,  dancing,  fairy  flame,  about  the  fallen. 
Loge,  I  call!" 

A  little  flashing  flame  burst  from  a  riven  place.  It 
spread,  it  crept,  it  darted  and  stung;  catching  here,  clutch- 
ing there,  fading,  leaping,  higher,  higher,  higher,  till  all 
the  world  was  wrapped  in  fire.  The  shooting  tongues 
drew  about  the  God,  who,  stretching  forth  his  magic 
spear,  directed  it  toward  the  rock  on  which  the  Valkyrie 
lay  asleep.  The  fiery  sea  spread  round  and  in  its  midst 
Briinnhilde  slept  safely. 

"He  who  fears  my  spear-point,  may  not  cross  the 
flame,"  he  said,  pointing  his  spear  toward  the  tomb  of  fire; 
and  then,  with  backward  glances,  the  God  of  War  passed 
through  the  flame  and  was  seen  no  more. 


THE  NIBELUNG  RING 
THIRD  DAY 

SIEGFRIED 

CHARACTERS   OF  THE   OPERA 


Siegfried. 

Alberich. 

Mime. 

Fafner. 

The  Wanderer. 

Erda. 

Briinnhilde. 


ACT  I 


In  a  cavernous  rock  in  the  forest,  hammering  upon  an 
anvil,  was  a  complaining  Mime.  As  he  hammered,  the 
sparks  flew  from  the  sword  which  he  was  forging. 

"Alas!"  he  cried,  muttering  to  himself,  as  he  worked 
at  his  task;  "Alas!  Here  I  am,  day  after  day,  trying  to 
forge  a  sword  which  Siegfried  cannot  break.  I,  who  have 
made  swords  for  giants,  am  yet  unable  to  satisfy  this 
stripling." 

At  this  the  Mime  flung  the  new-made  sword  upon  the 
anvil  wdth  a  crash,  and  stood  gazing  thoughtfully  upon 
the  ground. 

"There  is  a  sword  to  be  forged  which  even  that  insolent 
boy  cannot  break;  a  sword  which,  if  the  race  of  Nibelungs 
could  wield  it  would  win  them  back  the  treasure  and  the 
ring.  This  sword  must  kill  the  dragon,  Fafner,  who 
guards   that   ring  —  the   magic   sword,   Nothung !    But 

35^ 


Siegfried  357 

my  arm  cannot  forge  it;  there  is  no  fire  hot  enough  to 
fuse  its  metal !  Alas !  I  shall  always  be  a  slave  to  this 
boy  Siegfried;  that  is  plain."  While  he  lamented  thus, 
Siegfried,  himself,  ran  boisterously  into  the  cavern,  driv- 
ing a  great  bear  before  him.  The  youth  was  dressed  all 
in  skins,  wore  a  silver  hunting-horn  at  his  girdle,  and  he 
laughed  as  bruin  chased  the  Mime  into  a  corner. 

"Tear  this  tinkering  smith  to  pieces,"  Siegfried  shouted 
to  the  beast.  "Make  him  forge  a  real  sword  fit  for  men, 
and  not  for  babes."  The  Mime  ran  about,  shrieking  with 
fear. 

"There  is  thy  sword,  Siegfried,"  he  shouted,  pointing 
to  the  sword  which  he  had  thrown  on  the  anvil. 

"Good I  Then  for  to-day  thou  shalt  go  free  —  the 
bear  can  eat  thee  another  day?  "  he  cried,  mockingly; 
and  giving  the  bear  a  blow  with  the  rope  which  held  him, 
the  beast  trotted  back  into  the  forest. 

"Now  to  test  thy  great  day's  work!  Where  is  this  fine 
sword?  I  warrant  it  will  be  like  all  the  others;  fit  only 
for  a  child's  toy."  The  Mime  handed  him  the  sword 
saying : 

"It  has  a  fine,  sharp  edge";  thus  trying  to  soothe  the 
youth. 

"What  matters  its  edge  if  it  be  not  hard  and  true?" 
he  shouted  irritably,  and  snatching  the  sword  from  the 
Mime's  hand  he  struck  it  upon  the  anvil  and  it  flew  in 
pieces. 

Siegfried  flew  into  a  great  rage,  and  while  he  foamed 
about  the  smithy,  the  Mime  got  himself  behind  the  anvil, 
to  keep  himself  out  of  the  angry  fellow's  way.  When 
Siegfried's  anger  had  spent  itself,  the  Mime  came  from 
the  corner  and  said  solicitiously; 

"Thou  must  be  hungry,  my  son." 


358  Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 

"Don't  call  me  thy  'son,'  thou  little  black  fool,"  the 
boy  again  shouted.  "What  have  I  to  do  with  a  mis- 
shapen thing  like  thee,  whose  heart  is  as  wicked  as  its 
body  is  ugly?  When  I  want  food,  I'll  cook  it."  The 
Mime  held  out  a  bowl  of  soup  to  him,  but  Siegfried  dashed 
it  to  the  ground. 

"Did  I  not  rescue  thee  from  the  forest  when  thou  wert 
born,  and  have  I  not  fed  and  clothed  thee?  "  he  whimpered. 

"If  so,  it  was  for  no  good  purpose.  I  know  thee." 
Siegfried  had  a  marvelous  instinct  which  told  him  good 
from  evil.  "  Dost  know  why  I  go  forth  and  yet  return, 
day  after  day?"  he  asked  presently,  stud5dng  the 
Mime's  face  thoughtfully.  "It  is  because  I  mean  to 
learn  from  thee  something  of  my  mother  and  my  father." 
Siegfried's  voice  had  become  gentle,  and  full  of  longing. 

"What  can  I  tell  thee?"  the  Mime  replied,  craftily. 
"I  found  thy  mother  ill  in  the  wood,  and  brought  her  to 
my  cave,  where  I  tended  her  till  thou  wert  bom.  I  know 
nothing  of  thy  father  —  except  one  thing."  He  paused, 
considering  whether  or  not  he  should  reveal  what  he 
knew  about  the  good  sword,  Nothung. 

"Well,  get  on  with  thy  tale.  I  will  know  it  all,"  Sieg- 
fried threatened. 

"Thy  mother  carried  the  fragments  of  a  sword  which 
had  been  thy  father's,  and  when  she  died  at  thy  birth, 
she  named  thee  Siegfried  and  gave  to  me  the  pieces,  say- 
ing if  thou  couldst  reweld  the  sword,  so  as  to  make  it 
new,  it  would  win  thee  the  world.  The  sword's  name  is 
Nothung." 

"Where  are  those  pieces,"  Siegfried  roared,  starting 
up  and  menacing  the  Mime. 

"Do  not  set  upon  me  so  fiercely  —  I  will  give  them  to 
thee,"  the  Mime  pleaded,  and  taking  the  pieces  from  a 


Siegfried  359 

deft  in  the  rock,  he  gave  the  youth  a  sword  in  two  parts. 
"It  is  useless  to  thee,  I  tell  thee  frankly;  I  could  not  make 
thee  the  sword.  There  is  no  fire  hot  enough  to  fuse  the 
metal,  and  no  arm  strong  enough  to  forge  it  —  not  even 
mine,  which  has  fashioned  swords  for  giants." 

Siegfried  shouted  with  joy. 

"Thou  old  thief,  have  the  good  sword  done  ere  I  return 
or  I  \^-ill  have  the  bear  swallow  thee  at  a  gulp."  Leaping 
with  joy  he  went  back  into  the  forest.  The  Mime  sat 
down  in  great  trouble.  He  did  not  doubt  Siegfried's 
word  —  yet  he  knew  that  he  could  never  make  the  sword. 
He  fell  to  rocking  himself  to  and  fro  upon  the  stone  seat, 
while  he  thought  of  what  he  should  do  to  excuse  himself 
upon  Siegfried's  return. 

In  the  midst  of  his  trouble  a  strange  man  entered  the 
cavern,  dressed  in  a  dark  blue  cloak  which  nearly  hid  him. 
On  his  head  was  a  great  hat  pulled  low  over  his  face,  but 
one  fierce  eye  shone  from  under  it.  When  the  Mime 
saw  him,  he  felt  new  fear. 

Scene  II 

"Who  art  thou?"  the  Mime  demanded  in  an  ugly  tone, 
as  the  Wanderer  stood  watching  him  reflectively. 

"I  am  one  who  brings  wisdom,  and  whom  none  who 
have  good  hearts  turn  away.  Only  the  evil  turn  from 
me.  The  good  offer  me  shelter."  The  Mime,  seeing 
only  his  own  cunning  and  wickedness  reflected  in  the 
Wanderer,  tried  to  think  how  he  should  rid  himself  of 
one  he  believed  had  come  to  harm  him.  He  thought  the 
Wanderer  must  be  a  spy,  but  in  reality,  he  was  the  God 
Wotan,  who  had  seated  himself  upon  the  hearth,  and  was 
watching  the  Mime. 


360  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Kfww 

"Listen!"  he  said,  beholding  the  Mime's  fear;  "ask  of 
me  what  thou  wilt  and  I  shall  lighten  thy  burden,  be  it 
what  it  may."  He  looked  long  and  curiously  at  the  Mime 
and  could  read  his  heart. 

"Wilt  answer  me  three  questions?"  the  Mime 
demanded. 

"Aye  —  and  stake  my  head  upon  the  truth  of  the 
answers." 

"Then  tell  me  what  race  it  is  that  dwells  in  the 
depths  of  the  earth." 

"It  is  the  Nibelung  race,  and  Nibelheim  is  their  land. 
There,  all  are  black  elves,  and  once  upon  a  time, 
Alberich  was  their  lord.  He  tamed  them  with  the 
spell  of  a  magic  ring  formed  of  the  Rheingold.  Ask 
on." 

"  What  is  the  race  which  dwells  upon  the  surface  of  the 
earth?"     The  Mime  asked,  less  timidly. 

"  It  is  the  race  of  Giants.  Riesenheim  is  their  land  and 
Fasoit  and  Fafner  were  their  rulers,  but,  possessing  them- 
selves of  the  Nibelung's  gold,  they  fought,  and  one  killed 
the  other;  till  now,  Fafner  alone,  in  the  form  of  a  dragon, 
guards  the  hoard  and  ring.     Speak  on." 

"Thou  hast  told  me  much,"  the  Mime  said,  wondering. 
"But  now  canst  thou  tell  me  who  are  they  who  dwell 
upon  cloud-hidden  heights?" 

"They  are  the  Eternals,  and  Walhall  is  their  home. 
Wotan  commands  that  world.  He  shaped  his  spear  from 
the  branches  of  an  ash  tree,  and  with  that  spear  he  rules 
the  Gods.  Whoever  wields  that  spear  rules  all  the  giants 
and  the  Nibelungs."  As  if  by  accident,  Wotan  —  the 
Wanderer  —  struck  the  spear  he. carried  upon  the  ground 
and  a  low  roll  of  thunder  responded.  The  Mime  v/as 
terror-stricken. 


Siegfried  361 

"Well,  Mime,  is  my  head  which  I  pledged  to  thee,  free?" 

"Aye,  go." 

"If  thou  hadst  welcomed  me,  I  could  have  solved  thy 
problems  for  thee,  but  I  had  to  pledge  my  head  to  thee 
before  I  could  rest  here.  So  now,  by  the  law  of  wager, 
this  matter  is  now  reversed.  It  is  for  thee  to  answer 
me  three  questions  —  or  lose  thy  head.  Tell  me,  then : 
What  race  does  Wotan  the  War-god  favour?  " 

"Ah,  I  can  answer  that:  it  is  the  Walsungs  —  a  race 
sprung  from  wolves.  The  Walsung's  mightiest  son  is 
his  care.     His  name  is  Siegfried." 

"Now  tell  me  the  name  of  the  sword  with  which  this 
same  Siegfried  is  bound  to  conquer  the  world,  to  kill 
the  dragon  Fafner,  and  to  get  the  Rheingold  and  the  ring?" 

"The  name  of  the  sword  is  Nothung, "  the  dwarf 
replied,  not  daring  to  keep  silence. 

"Now  one  more  answer,  as  wise  as  those  gone  before, 
and  thy  head  is  free:  Who  shall  fashion  this  same  sword, 
Nothung,  for  Siegfried?" 

At  this  question  the  Mime  leaped  up  and  flung  his  tools 
all  about  in  rage. 

"I  know  not  who  has  the  power  to  make  the  sword," 
he  screamed. 

"I  will  tell  thee,"  the  Wanderer  answered,  smiling  con- 
temptuously upon  the  Mime.  "The  sword  shall  be 
forged  by  one  who  has  never  known  fear.  Now  thy  head 
is  forfeit,  but  I  shall  leave  it  on  thy  shoulders  for  that 
same  man  —  he  who  knows  no  fear  —  to  strike  from 
thee."  Still  smiling  at  the  terror-stricken  Mime,  the 
Wanderer  passed  out  into  the  forest. 

He  had  no  sooner  gone,  than  the  Mime  began  to  think 
upon  the  last  words  he  had  spoken.  He  was  to  lose  his 
head  by  the  stroke  of  one  who  had  never  known  fear. 


362  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

The  only  one  the  Mime  knew  who  was  fearless  was  Sieg- 
fried. Then  unless  Siegfried  could  be  made  afraid,  he 
would  one  day  strike  off  the  Mime's  head. 

Scene  III 

When  Siegfried  returned  to  the  cavern,  the  Mime  began 
to  tell  him  that  he  must  learn  to  fear,  before  he  could 
go  forth  into  the  world  to  seek  adventures.  He  told 
Siegfried  of  the  horrible  dragon,  Fafner,  who  guarded 
the  Rheingold  and  the  Ring,  thinking  to  strike  terror  to 
the  youth's  heart;  but  Siegfried  became  at  once  impatient 
to  go  in  search  of  the  dragon,  that  he  might  know  what 
the  experience  of  fear  was. 

"Where  is  that  strong  sword  you  are  to  make  for  me?" 
he  demanded,  being  thus  put  in  mind  of  it  again.  The 
wretched  Mime  knew  not  what  to  answer. 

"Alas!"  he  sighed;  "I  have  no  fire  hot  enough  to  fuse 
the  metal." 

"Now  by  my  head,  I  will  stand  no  more  of  thee!" 
Siegfried  shouted.  "Get  away  from  that  forge  and  give 
me  the  sword's  pieces.  I'll  forge  that  sword  of  my  father's 
and  teach  thee  thy  trade  before  I  break  thy  neck."  So 
saying,  he  grasped  the  fragments  of  the  sword,  began  to 
heap  up  the  charcoal,  and  to  blow  the  bellows.  Then 
he  screwed  the  pieces  into  a  vise  and  began  to  file 
them. 

"Use  the  solder,"  the  Mime  directed.  "It  is  there, 
ready  for  thee." 

"Solder?  What  should  I  do  with  solder?"  he  said, 
and  continued  to  file  the  pieces  till  the  file  was  in  shreds. 
In  time  he  had  ground  the  pieces  to  powder,  which  he 
caught  in  a  crucible  and  put  upon  the  fire.    While  he 


Siegfried 


363 


blew  the  bellows  with  a  great  roaring  of  the  fire,  he  sang 
the  song  of  Nothung,  the  invincible  sword. 


rit. 


:f=HE 


^ 


t 


Nothung!  Nothung!      conquering      sword!    What 

a  tempo. 


blow  has  served  to  break  thee  ? 


To 


=i?^ 


1- 

shreds      I      shat — tered    thy    shin  —  ing      blade; 


the 


^ 


"» — 
has 


fire 


r-p h— 1 

<-5                              P 

1 ^ 

•  _  _ 

— i — 

•t 

/\  t 

>* 

N* 

1          ;              '         ^      ■\ 

T'h-' 

• 

t                                     t 

m 

1 J 

0 

•^     1 

K\)          -  —  - 

t                                     '               - 

...      .     '                          J 

Ho        ho! 


Ho        ho!     Ho    hei! 


Bright 


glow. 


As  the  Mime  watched  tliat  easy  forging  of  the  mighty 
weapon,  he  believed  that  Siegfried  was  the  one  who  would 
slay  the  dragon  as  Wotan  had  foretold.     If   he  did  that 


364  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

then  he  surely  would  possess  himself  of  the  treasure  and 
the  ring.  So  the  Mime  fell  to  planning  how  he  could  get 
the  gold  into  his  own  hands.  Siegfried  knew  nothing  of 
gold  and  power,  and  so,  why  should  he  not  willingly  hand 
the  treasure  over  to  the  Mime?  Then  the  Mime  would 
determine  that  Siegfried  should  perish,  and  by  the  ring's 
magic  his  destruction  would  come  about,  leaving  the 
Mime  lord  of  all.  So  the  Mime  decided  it  was  well  that 
Siegfried  should  forge  the  sword,  because  the  Mime,  even 
if  he  had  such  a  sword,  had  known  fear,  and  therefore, 
could  not  kill  the  Dragon  with  it.  Siegfried  must  do  this 
and  the  Mime  should  profit  by  it,  and  afterward  kill 
Siegfried.  Thus  he  reasoned.  All  this  time  Siegfried 
had  been  at  work  upon  his  sword.  He  had  poured  the 
molten  metal  into  a  mould,  and  held  the  mould  high  above 
his  head.  Presently  he  plunged  it  into  cold  water,  and 
a  great  hissing  of  steam  occurred.  Again  he  thrust 
the  sword  into  the  fire  to  harden  it  the  more,  and 
meantime  the  Mime  was  fussing  about  the  fire,  making  a 
broth. 

"What  is  the  devil's  brew  thou  art  making,"  Siegfried 
demanded  giving  him  a  lowering  look. 

"Something  to  take  with  us  upon  the  journey  to  the 
Dragon's  lair." 

"None  of  it  for  me,"  Siegfried  shouted.  "I'll  have 
none  of  thy  brew." 

But  the  Mime  reasoned  that  by  the  morrow,  when 
Siegfried  would  have  slain  the  Dragon  and  have  found 
himself  weary,  he  would  gladly  drink  of  the  broth.  As 
it  was  poisoned,  it  would  kill  Siegfried  as  soon  almost  as 
he  had  killed  the  Dragon. 

At  last  the  broth  was  finished  and  poured  into  a  bottle 
ready  for  taking,  while  the  sword  was  done  at  the  same 


Siegfried  365 

time,  Siegfried  having  tempered  it  and  tested  its  point 
and  its  strength  a  little. 

"Now,"  shouted  Siegfried,  "\i  the  good  sword  will 
stand,  let  us  go."  He  stood  before  the  anvil,  swung 
Nothung  about  his  head,  and  with  a  frightful  blow  he 
cleaved  the  anvil  from  top  to  bottom  so  that  the  halves 
fell  apart  with  a  great  crash.  The  sight  was  more  than 
the  Mime  could  bear  and  he  stood  palsied  with  fear  of 
such  tremendous  strength. 

"Yes,  yes,  let  us  be  oflf,"  he  cried,  when  he  could  speak 
again.  He  longed  to  have  the  Dragon  dead  and  Sieg- 
fried dying;  only  then  would  he  feel  safe. 

Swinging  the  great  sword  about  his  head,  Siegfried 
started  off  into  the  forest,  in  search  of  adventures. 

ACT  n 

Alberich  crouched,  waiting  near  the  Dragon's  cave, 
having  always  known,  even  as  the  Gods  knew,  that  the 
day  would  come  when  even  Fafner,  the  Dragon,  would 
meet  his  match. 

When  that  time  came,  Alberich  meant  to  possess  him- 
self again  of  the  gold,  for  he  felt  capable  of  fighting  any 
one  but  the  Dragon. 

As  Siegfried  and  the  ]Mime  reached  the  part  of  the  for- 
est where  the  Dragon  kept  guard,  it  seemed  to  be  black, 
black  night  and  a  storm  was  brewing.  The  scene  was 
very  frightful,  indeed.  The  thunder  muttered,  showing 
that  Donner  was  somewhere  about,  using  his  hammer. 
While  Alberich,  imp  of  the  under- world,  sat  watching 
and  waiting,  he  saw  a  bluish  light,  such  as  had  appeared 
when  Erda  spoke  to  Wotan.    Alberich  started  up  in  alarm. 

"Can    that  light  mean  the  coming  of  him  who  is  to 


366  Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 

slay  Fafner?"  he  wondered,  as  the  bluish  radiance  grew 
brighter  and  brighter.  Then  the  storm  abated  and  the 
light  died  out.  Next,  the  Wanderer  entered  the  place 
before  the  Dragon's  cave,  and  although  it  was  very  dark 
such  a  bright  light  seemed  to  come  from  him  that  Albe- 
rich  recognized  Wotan. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  thief,"  cried  the  black 
revengeful  spirit,  "you  who  took  the  Rheingold?  Once 
more  let  me  gain  possession  of  the  ring  and  I'll  come 
against  all  Walhall  and  thy  celestial  world." 

"Peace!  Thy  rage  means  naught  to  me,"  the  Wan- 
derer replied.  "Listen,  and  I  will  tell  thee  what  thou 
wouldst  like  to  know.  The  Mime  brings  hither  a  boy 
who  shall  kill  the  Dragon.  The  Mime  plans  to  win  the 
gold  and  the  ring.  I  may  not  help  the  boy:  I  may  not 
serve  those  whom  I  love;  but  if  thou  wouldst  warn  the 
Dragon,  very  likely  he  would  give  thee  the  treasure  for 
thy  reward.  I'll  call  the  Dragon  to  thee,"  he  said,  and 
stepped  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave. 

"Fafner,  Fafner,  awake,  thou  Dragon!"  Alberich 
trembled  with  fear  when  an  awful  voice  roared  in  answer: 

"Who  wakes  me  from  my  sleep?" 

"A  friend,"  Wotan,  the  Wanderer,  replied,  bending 
his  head  toward  the  cave  and  listening. 

Alberich,  taking  courage,  listened  too,  and  called: 

"A  foe  is  near  who  comes  to  snatch  the  Rheingold  and 
the  ring  from  thee." 

"Then  food  is  near  at  hand,"  the  Dragon  roared  in  his 
softest  voice. 

"Listen,"  Alberich  persisted.  "If  thou  wilt  give  the 
ring  to  me,  I  will  help  thee,"  The  Dragon  yawned 
terrifically: 

"Don't  trouble  yourself.     I  will  look  after  my  hoard 


Siegfried  367 

and  my  ring."  Even  if  he  had  whispered,  he  could  have 
been  heard  a  mile  away.  As  it  was,  he  spoke  in  his  loud- 
est voice,  although  he  was  sleepy,  and  Alberich  nearly 
fainted  with  terror. 

"Thou  hast  failed  with  the  Dragon,  Alberich,"  the 
Wanderer  said,  smiling,  "but  I  will  give  thee  one  word  more 
of  advice:  ]\Iake  terms  ■^•ith  the  IMime.  Attack  him; 
perhaps  thou  wilt  have  better  luck  with  thy  kind!"  In 
a  flash  of  lightning,  the  Wanderer  mounted  his  magic 
steed  and  disappeared.  When  he  had  looked  after  him 
for  a  moment,  Alberich  slipped  into  the  Dragon's  cave, 
and  as  he  disappeared,  the  day  slowly  dawned,  and  all 
the  scene  grew  bright  in  the  morning  light. 

Just  at  the  dawn  of  day,  Siegfried,  and  the  Mime 
reached  the  glade  before  the  Dragon's  cave.  The  en- 
chanted sword  hung  at  Siegfried's  belt. 

Scene  II 

"Now  we  have  arrived  where  the  Dragon  lives,"  the 
Mime  said  to  Siegfried. 

"Ah?"  the  youth  said,  sitting  down  to  rest  under  a 
lime  tree.  He  looked  curiously  about  him.  "Is  it  time 
to  be  afraid?"  he  asked,  an.xiously.  "Because  if  so,  I 
feel  nothing  yet  —  although  maybe  I  do,  and  do  not  know 
it?" 

"Oh,  you'll  know  it  fast  enough,"  the  Mime  assured 
him.  "In  that  cave  there  lies  the  Dragon.  His  great 
hairy  jaws  will  open  and  swallow  thee  at  one  gulp."  But 
Siegfried  sat  under  the  lime  tree  and  asked  if  that  were 
really  true.     It  interested  him  greatly. 

"But  one  thing  I  tell  thee,"  he  cried:  "If  this  thing 
which  you  have  told  me  be  not  true,  we'll  part  company 


368  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

at  once.  I'm  not  to  be  fooled.  I  have  come  here  to 
learn  something  —  how  to  be  afraid  —  and  if  I  don't 
learn  it  as  thou  hast  said,  I'll  teach  thee  to  stop  lying." 
"When,  out  of  the  Dragon's  mouth,  a  poisoned  foam 
pours,  which  will  kill  thee  if  any  drop  gets  upon  thee,  I 
guess  thou  wilt  shake  a  little.  Thy  body  and  thy  bones 
would  melt  if  that  stuflf  touched  thee." 

"Well,  I'll  give  him  plenty  of  room,  to  be  sure,"  Sieg- 
fried replied. 

"His  great  tail  will  sweep  about  and  if  he  should  catch 
thy  limbs  in  it,  thy  bones  would  be  crushed  like  glass." 

"That  sounds  very  bad;  but  tell  me  if  this  thing  has  a 
heart  which  is  placed  where  other  hearts  are  placed?" 

"Truly  —  a  cold  and  cruel  heart." 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  I  am  not  concerned,  but  if  he  has  any 
heart,  Nothung  will  slip  into  it.  Now  come,  old  babbler, 
is  this  the  thing  that  is  to  teach  me  fear  —  this  thing 
that  spits  a  bit  and  lashes  about  with  a  clumsy  old  tail?  " 

"Laugh  away,  laugh  away!  But  I  have  no  mind  to 
stay  so  near,  so  I  shall  go  away  and  lie  down  beside  a 
stream  to  sleep.  Watch  thou  there,  and  have  a  care  for 
thyself."  So  saying  the  Mime  went  off  a  little  way 
and  laid  himself  down.  When  he  had  gone,  Siegfried 
stretched  himself  beneath  the  lime  tree  to  listen  to  the 
birds'  song.  He  cut  himself  a  reed  and  tried  to  answer 
the  birds,  but  could  not.  As  he  rested  there  in  the  bright 
day,  he  had  lonely  thoughts  of  his  mother  and  his  father, 
and  longed  for  some  one  whom  he  could  love.  While  in 
the  midst  of  these  musings,  he  looked  up  and  there,  with 
his  frightful  head  resting  upon  the  knoll,  was  Fafner,  the 
Dragon.  He  was  giving  vent  to  a  terrific  yawn,  and  made 
such  an  awful  sound  that  Siegfried  regarded  him  in  amaze- 
ment, but  suddenly  burst  out  laughing. 


Siegfried  369 

"Hello!  Are  you  the  beauty  who  is  to  teach  me  to  be 
afraid?  Well,  well!"  and  he  laughed  again.  The  Dragon 
ceased  to  yawn  and  stared  hard  at  Siegfried. 

"You  are  a  pretty  plaything,"  Siegfried  continued. 
"Such  a  nice,  rosy  httle  mouth.  I  fancy  you  must  be 
the  fellow  who  was  to  scare  me  to  death.  Thou  art  a 
beauty,  surely!" 

"Who  is  it?"  the  Dragon  roared  suddenly. 

"Ho!  And  a  sweet  voice  —  like  the  birds,"  Siegfried 
grinned. 

"Since  my  mouth  is  so  rosy,  let  me  see  how  my  teeth 
will  feel  when  set  in  a  juicy  morsel  like  you,"  said  the 
Dragon  and  he  spouted  venomous  vapours,  stretching  his 
horrid  jaws,  while  Siegfried  nimbly  sprang  to  one  side  to 
avoid  the  poisonous  steam.  Standing  watchful,  with 
his  sword,  he  tried  to  thrust  it  at  the  Dragon's  tail,  but 
Fafner  roared  and  swished  his  tail  away,  and  prepared  to 
strike  with  his  body;  but  to  do  this  he  had  to  raise  him- 
self upon  high,  and  in  so  doing  exposed  his  breast.  In- 
stantly Siegfried  plunged  Nothung  into  his  heart,  and  the 
Dragon  rolled  over  upon  his  side  with  a  groan  which 
shook  the  trees  to  their  very  roots.  Siegfried  left  his 
sword  in  the  wound  and  sprang  to  one  side. 

"Oh,"  groaned  the  Dragon,  with  a  sigh  like  a  weary 
earthquake.  His  blood  spouted  upon  Siegfried  and  burnt 
his  hand  like  fire.  As  the  blood  soused  him,  a  little  bird 
sang. 

"It  is  almost  as  if  that  little  bird  was  speaking  to  me," 
he  said,  pausing  and  looking  up  into  the  trees.  "Can  it 
be  the  Dragon's  burning  blood  has  some  virtue  which 
makes  me  understand  the  bird's  song?" 

"Siegfried  now  owns  all  the  Nibelung's  hoard  which 
lies  hidden  in  the  cave.     There  will  be  found  the  Tarn- 


37°  Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 

helm  and  the  ring,  which  will  give  him  power  over  all 
the  earth,"  so  the  bird  sang,  and  Siegfried  understood. 
"I  thank  thee,  dear  birdling,  for  thy  counsel.  I  shall 
follow  thy  call."  He  turned  toward  the  cave  and 
entered  it  in  search  of  the  treasures.  At  that  moment, 
the  Mime  came  into  the  glade,  and  Alberich,  in  the  dark 
of  the  cavern's  mouth,  slipped  out  past  Siegfried,  and  the 
Mime  and  he  came  face  to  face,  while  the  dead  Dragon 
lay  between  them. 

Scene  III 

"Thou  sly  and  slippery  knave,"  Alberich  began  pleas- 
antly to  address  the  Mime;  "thou  wouldst  have  the  ring 
and  the  gold,  eh?"  He  glared  viciously  at  the  little  imp 
of  Nibelheim. 

The  Mime  tried  to  pacify  the  evil  creature,  but  Alberich, 
who  had  waited  long,  would  listen  to  nothing.  Before 
they  could  fall  a-fighting^  however,  Siegfried  came  from 
the  cave  bearing  the  ring  and  the  Tarnhelm. . 

He  slipped  the  ring  upon  his  finger  and  hung  the 
Tarnhelm  at  his  belt. 

"I  know  not  what  these  things  are  for,"  he  murmured 
to  himself,  "but  I  have  taken  them  because  the  little 
bird  gave  me  that  advice."  Unseen  behind  him,  Alberich 
slipped  into  the  cave  to  fetch  the  treasure.  At  that 
same  moment  the  little  bird  sang: 

"Let  Siegfried  wait  to  see  what  the  Mime  wdll  do. 
Listen  and  learn  and  have  a  care." 

"Good!"  the  youth  cried.  "I  am  the  one  to  take 
advice."  As  the  Mime  approached  him,  Siegfried  stood 
steadily,  one  foot  upon  the  knoll  where  the  Dragon  had 
lain,  and  watched  the  imp. 


Siegfried 


371 


"Ah,  my  lovely  boy,  hast  thou  now  learned  to  fear?" 
he  said,  in  an  ingratiating  tone. 

"Not  yet,  Mime!"    Siegfried  said,  seriously. 

"Well,  at  least  thou  art  weary,  so  drink  of  this  and 
rest  a  while,"  and  the  Mime  drew  forth  his  bottled  broth. 
"It  will  give  thee  new  courage."  But  Siegfried,  filled 
with  loathing  for  the  little  man,  felled  him  with  a  single 
stroke  of  his  sword.  Thus  the  Mime  was  slain,  as  Wotan 
had  said,  by  one  who  knew  no  fear. 

After  that,  the  youth  picked  up  the  Mime's  body  and 
threw  it  into  the  cave  where  the  treasure  lay  still,  and 
with  a  great  effort  he  tugged  at  the  Dragon's  body 
till  he  had  rolled  it  near,  and  in  turn  he  dumped 
the  Dragon  into  the  cavern.  After  looking  down  into 
the  darkness,  he  sighed  and  turned  back  to  the  green 
glade. 

"I  am  truly  tired,"  he  said.  "I  think  I  can  now  stretch 
myself  beneath  this  tree  and  rest."  So  saying  he  laid 
himself  dow^n  and  turned  his  face  to  the  sky. 

"Ah,  little  birdling,"  he  said,  "Here  am  I,  so  lonely, 
without  father  nor  mother  nor  any  one  to  love  me.  I 
wish  thy  clear  voice  would  speak  again  to  me  and  tell 
me  of  some  fond  friend.      The  bird  trilled: 


372 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


dim.^p 


m^ 


—      ^ 


5^ 

P  dolce. 


P 


"Thou  hast  great  treasure  and  power  from  this  time 
forth;  still  thou  art  not  happy  without  love  and  one  to 
share  thy  fortune.  I  will  tell  thee  then  of  a  lovely  bride 
who  lies  guarded  round  by  fire  in  a  rocky  forest  fastness. 
She  sleeps  and  waits  for  one  who  shall  dare  the  flames  for 
love.     The  glorious  maiden's  name  is  Briinnhilde." 

"Oh,  song  of  joy,"  Siegfried  cried,  starting  up.  "Now 
indeed  thou  hast  made  me  happy. 

"Only  he  who  has  never  known  fear  may  wake  her,"  the 
little  bird  sang. 

"Have  no  fear,  dear  bird.  I  have  known  no  fear  and 
Bninnhilde  shall  be  mine.  Lead  on,  lead  on,  dear  bird. 
Lead  me  to  the  rock  where  this  dear  maid  lies  and  I  shall 
know  no  fear."  The  little  bird  rose  beside  him,  and  cir- 
cling a  few  times  above  his  head,  took  a  straight  flight 
and  led  the  way  while  Siegfried  followed. 

ACT  m 


While  Siegfried  was  on  his  way,  led  by  the  little  bird, 
the  Wanderer  was  seeking  Erda,  who  had  given  to  him 
Briinnhilde  and  his  eight  other  warrior  daughters.  Erda 
was  Wisdom,  and  the  Wanderer  sought  her  at  the  base 
of  a  wild  and  rock-made  mountain.     It  was  night  and  a 


Siegfried  s73 

storm  was  roaring  all  about.  Wotan  arrived  at  the  mouth 
of  a  cave  and  called  "Erda!" 

"Waken,"  he  cried,  "I  must  waken  thee  from  thy  long 
sleep."  The  bluish  light  shone  steadily  and  slowly  Erda 
rose.  She  was  covered  with  hoar  frost  and  her  iridescent 
garment  shimmered  as  if  made  of  ice. 

"Erda,  a  youth  has  been  found  who  knows  no  fear. 
He  has  slain  Fafner.  He  is  governed  only  by  love,  and 
I  am  about  to  resign  my  Godhood  in  his  favour.  Wis- 
dom has  been  sleeping  and  the  Gods  have  lost  their  power. 
Wisdom  and  the  Gods  must  at  last  give  way  to  love." 
Ha\ing  heard  this,  Erda  slowly  sank  back  to  her  sleep. 
Wotan,  the  Wanderer,  leaned  gravely  against  the  face  of 
the  rock,  waiting  for  Siegfried.  Suddenly  a  little  bird 
fluttered  along,  dropped  to  the  ground,  and  disap- 
peared. 

Siegfried,  coming  up  afterward,  saw  the  flight  and  dis- 
appearance of  his  birdling,  so  knew  that  his  journey  was 
ended  and  that  Briinnhilde  was  near. 

Scene  II 

"I  must  find  the  burning  rock,  without  further  help," 
he  said.  "I  think  the  little  bird  would  not  have  gone,  if 
it  had  not  left  me  very  near  the  place."  He  looked  im- 
patiently about,  and  went  toward  the  mountain.  In 
passing  the  Wanderer,  who  stood  watching  him,  he 
paused  and  asked  which  way  he  should  take. 

"Is  there  not  a  rock  surrounded  by  flames,  near  by? 
And  is  there  not  a  maiden?"  He  told  the  Wanderer  his 
story;  and  as  the  old  man  did  not  speak,  Siegfried  became 
curious  to  know  who  he  was.  He  looked  closely  into  his 
face,  questioned  him  about  his  queer  hat,  and  suddenly 


374  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

saw  that  the  strange  old  man  had  but  one  eye.  He 
mocked  at  him,  in  his  youth  and  strength. 

Wotan,  being  a  God  and  truly  loving  Siegfried,  spoke 
gently  to  him,  but  the  youth  was  defiant  and  mocked  him 
again.  The  Wanderer  became  enraged  and  declared  that 
Siegfried  should  never  pass  the  flames  that  divided  him 
from  Briinnhilde. 

"It  is  only  he  who  fears  naught,"  the  God  cried.  "Look 
and  say  if  thou  art  he,"  He  pointed  his  spear  toward 
the  mountain  top  and  the  flames  broke  forth,  burning 
fiercely. 

"Ah,"  Siegfried  cried; "it  is  there  the  lovely  Brunnhilde 
sleeps!  Farewell,  old  man.  I  go  to  waken  her  and  claim 
my  bride."    But  the  Wanderer  again  halted  the  youth. 

"That  sword  of  thine  has  once  been  broken  on  my 
spear.  I  shall  break  it  again,  wild  boy.  No  sword  has 
ever  yet  withstood  the  shock  of  my  spear.  Thou  canst 
not  go!"  He  plunged  his  spear  to  bar  Siegfried's  way, 
but  Siegfried  stepped  back  and  regarded  him  closely. 

"If  this  sword  of  mine  has  once  been  broken  on  thy 
spear,  then  thou  art  the  destroyer  of  my  father  —  for 
this  sword  is  Nothung.  Thus,  with  one  blow  I  avenge 
him."  So  saying,  he  struck  once  at  the  Wanderer's 
spear,  and  shattered  it.  The  Wanderer  stepped  back, 
knowing  then  that  the  end  of  the  Eternals  was  at  hand. 
Thunder  crashed  and  lightning  splintered  across  the  sky 
and  sprimg  from  the  spear  to  the  mountain-top. 

Presently,  the  flaming  mountain  height  seemed  to 
descend  nearer  to  Siegfried,  and  putting  his  horn  to  his 
lips  he  blew  a  great  blast  and  plunged  into  the  fire. 

He  was  soon  out  of  sight,  but  gradually  the  fire  died 
down,  and  the  red  cloud  hovering  over  all  became  less 
lurid  in  its  reflection.    Gradually  the  cloud  dissolved 


Siegfried  375 

till  naught  was  left  but  a  beautiful  rosy  mist.  With  the 
passing  of  the  mist,  Briinnhilde  could  be  seen,  still  lying 
on  the  mound  where  Wotan  had  laid  her,  and  she  was  still 
covered  with  her  helmet  and  the  beautiful  shining 
shield. 

Scene  III 

The  fir  tree  spread  itself  above  Briinnhilde,  and  she 
shone  in  her  brilliant  armour.  Siegfried  rose  above  a 
mound,  and  stood  looking  at  her,  spell-bound.  Near 
at  hand,  he  saw  a  beautiful  steed,  standing  as  if  asleep: 
it  was  Grane,  who  had  been  enchanted  along  with  his 
mistress. 

Gently  lifting  Briinnhilde's  shield  he  thought  himself 
to  be  gazing  upon  a  young  man. 

"I  think  his  helmet  must  press  too  heavily  upon  his 
brow!"  Siegfried  murmured,  and  lifted  it.  The  beau- 
tiful hair  of  Briinnhilde  streamed  down,  and  Sieg- 
fried paused  in  admiration;  but  still  he  thought  her  a 
man. 

"I  think  his  armour  presses,  "  he  whispered.  "I  will 
lift  it."  He  carefully  cut  the  fastenings  with  his  sword 
and  lifting  the  breast-platc  he  saw  the  form  of  Briinnhilde 
lying  shrouded  in  the  soft  folds  of  her  gowTi.  She  was 
so  beautiful  that  at  last  he  was  afraid. 

"Oh,  how  shall  I  awaken  her?"  he  cried,  and  stooping 
he  kissed  her  lips,  as  she  opened  her  eyes.  At  the  same 
moment,  Grane,  the  horse,  moved  and  began  quietly  to 
graze. 

Briinnhilde  looked  about  her,  saw  her  dear  horse,  and 
the  sun  and  the  glory  of  the  day,  and  lastly  beheld  Sieg- 
fried who  had  delivered  her  from  the  enchantment  of 
Wotan. 


376  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Is  it  thou  who  hast  gone  through  flame  for  me?"  she 
asked. 

"It  is  I  who  will  guard  thee  forever,"  he  cried,  embrac- 
ing her  tenderly.  Knowing  that  she  loved  him,  the  only 
fear  he  had  ever  known,  vanished.  Thus  mortal  love 
overthrew  the  powers  of  evil,  and  of  the  Gods,  as  well. 


NIBELUNG  RING 
FOURTH  DAY 

THE  DUSK  OF  THE  GODS 

CHARACTERS   OF   THE   OPERA 


Noms  (3). 

Fricka. 

Briinnhilde. 

Gutrune. 

Waltraute. 

Siegfried  "| 

Gunther    >  Nibelungen. 

Hagen      J 

Wotan. 

Donner. 

Alberich. 

Woglinde. 

Weligunde. 

Flosshilde. 


PROLOGUE 


On  the  Valkyries'  rock,  where  Siegfried  woke  Briinn- 
hilde, the  Xorns  were  gathering.  The  first  Norn  was 
old  and  tall  and  lay  where  Briinnhilde  had  lain  —  under 
the  spreading  fir  tree.  The  second  was  younger  and  also 
tall,  and  she  was  stretched  upon  a  rock  in  front  of  the 
cave.  The  third  was  the  youngest,  and  she,  too,  was  tall, 
and  she  sat  upon  a  rock  below  the  mountain  peak,  and  all 
were  clothed  in  dark  and  veil-like  draperies. 

They  were  Erda's  daughters,  and  were  called  the  Fates. 
Behind  them  shone  the  firelight  which  guarded  the  rock, 
and  it  flared  fitfully  above  the  peaks. 

377 


37S  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

The  first  Norn  unwound  from  her  waist  a  golden  rope 
and  tied  one  end  of  it  to  a  branch  of  the  fir  tree.  While 
one  wove  into  this  rope  the  destinies  of  the  world,  another 
clipped  it,  and  the  three  sang  the  story  of  creation.  They 
sang  of  the  ash  tree,  of  Wo  tan  and  the  Eternals;  and  as 
they  sang  they  threw  the  rope  from  branch  to  branch, 
weaving  and  clipping,  weaving  and  clipping.  They  sang 
the  story  of  Briinnhilde,  of  the  Rheingold,  of  all  the  strife 
in  the  world,  and  of  the  destinies  of  the  Gods  and  mortals. 

After  a  while  the  dawn  began  to  glow,  the  sun  to  rise, 
and  the  fire-glow  behind  the  mountain  to  die  out. 

On  the  Third  Day,  Briinnhilde  and  Siegfried  had 
entered  the  cave;  then  when  the  sun  rose  and  night  was 
dispelled,  they  came  out,  Siegfried  dressed  in  Briinnhilde's 
armour  and  Briinnhilde  leading  her  good  horse,  Grane. 

''Now,  I  must  be  gone  and  do  valorous  deeds,  dear 
Briinnhilde,"  Siegfried  said  to  her.  Taking  the  Nibel- 
ung  ring  from  his  finger,  he  put  it  upon  hers.  "Keep 
thou  this  ring  and  thou  art  all  powerful  and  it  shall  keep 
our  faith,  truly." 

In  return  Briinnhilde  gave  him  her  horse,  Grane. 

"Once  he  mounted  above  the  clouds  while  now  he  can 
only  pace  the  earth;  but  that  he  will  do  bravely  for  thee, 
my  Siegfried,"  she  assured  him.  The  parting  was  full 
of  promises  and  love  for  each  other.  Siegfried  and  Grane 
disappeared  below  the  cliff,  while  Briinnhilde,  standing 
upon  a  little  mountain  height,  looked  down  at  them  and 
bade  Siegfried  a  loving  farewell. 

ACT  I 

While  Siegfried  was  on  his  way  to  search  for  the  glory 
suited  to  such  a  hero,  a  banquet  was  being  held  in  the 


The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  379 

hall  of  the  Gibichungs,  a  race  of  mortals  living  on  the 
banks  of  the  river  Rhein. 

Gunther  and  his  sister  Gutrune  were  the  rulers,  and 
they  sat  upon  a  rude  throne,  side  by  side,  while  the  ban- 
quet table  was  spread  before  them. 

At  one  side  sat  Hagen,  the  half  brother  of  Gunther, 
half  a  Nibelung  —  in  short,  the  son  of  Alberich.  Through 
the  great  door  of  the  hall  could  be  seen  a  green  field 
stretching  away  to  the  bank  of  the  Rhein. 

*''Tell  me,  Hagen,"  Gunther  asked  of  his  half  brother, 
"  is  there  anything  I  have  left  undone  that  could  enhance 
the  fortunes  of  my  race?" 

"That  there  is,"  Hagen  cried.  "Dost  thou  not  know 
of  the  Nibelungs'  ring?" 

"I  have  heard  there  is  a  treasure  stolen  from  the 
Rhein-daughters;  and  that  of  it  a  ring  was  made,  which 
has  magic  power." 

''That  is  true;  but  the  ring  belongs  to  a  wonderful 
youth,  who  by  its  power  hath  won  a  beautiful  maiden 
called  Briinnhilde.  She  lay  in  an  enchanted  sleep,  in 
a  forest-fastness,  guarded  by  fire.  This  youth,  Siegfried, 
alone,  by  means  of  this  ring  and  his  sword,  has  dared 
that  flame;  and  now  he  has  power  over  all  the  world,  over 
thee  and  the  Nibelungs,  and  even  over  the  Gods." 

Upon  hearing  this,  Gunther  became  moody  and  frowning. 

"Why  hast  thou  stirred  up  envy  in  my  breast.  Why 
should  this  youth  have  the  most  beautiful  maiden  for  a 
wife,  and  also  a  golden  treasure  that  gives  him  power  over 
us  all?" 

''Why  not  have  these  things  for  thyself?"  Hagen 
a?l:ed,  eyeing  him  keenly. 

"Plow  could  I  manage  that?" 

"Dost  thou  rememlicr  a  magic  potion  I  brought  here 


380  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

to  the  hall  of  the  Gibichungs?  If  Siegfried  should 
chance  to  drink  that  when  our  sister  Gutrune  were  in 
his  sight,  he  would  forget  Briinnhilde  and  love  none  but 
Gutrune,  Would  not  the  ring  and  the  treasure  of  the 
Rhein  thus  come  into  the  hands  of  the  Gibichungs?" 
Gutrune  looked  earnestly  at  Hagen. 

"From  what  thou  sayest  of  this  brave  youth,  I  long  to 
have  him  for  my  husband;  but  he  is  not  here!  How  are 
we  to  lure  him  hither?  " 

"He  is  an  adventurous  youth  and  hath  heard  of  the 
fame  of  the  Gibichungs.  He  will  not  rest  until  he  has 
met  with  all  the  adventure  the  Gibichungs  can  afford 
him.  Even  now,  he  may  be  near  this  place."  As  Hagen 
spoke,  the  sound  of  Siegfried's  horn  was  heard  afar  off. 

"Ah,  dost  hear  the  challenge?"  cried  Hagen,  run- 
ning to  the  broad  entrance  from  which  could  be  seen  the 
river  Rhein.  "There  comes  a  horse  and  a  man,  standing 
in  a  boat  which  nears  the  shore.  It  must  be  he,  because 
he  is  beautiful  as  none  other  is  beautiful,  and  he  wears 
the  air  of  a  brave  man."  Putting  his  hands  to  his  mouth 
in  the  fashion  of  a  trumpet  he  called  loudly: 

"Hoi-ho!     Whom  seekest  thou,  hero?" 

"The  stalwart  son  of  the  Gibichung." 

"A  welcome  waits  thee,"  Hagen  answered.  Siegfried 
could  now  be  seen,  disembarking  with  his  horse,  Grane. 
Hagen  went  to  help  him  and  made  the  boat's  chain  fast. 
Gunther  followed  his  brother  to  the  bank,  while  Gutrune 
stood  in  the  great  entrance  to  welcome  the  stranger. 

Scene  II 

"Which  is  the  son  of  the  Gibich?"  Siegfried  asked, 
standing  with  his  arm  thrown  across  his  horse. 


The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  381 

"I  am  he,  Siegfried,"  Gunther  answered. 

"Thy  fame  as  a  fighter  has  spread  to  the  farthest  cor- 
ners of  the  earth  and  I  am  come  to  seek  thee.  Fight  me, 
or  be  my  friend,  whichever  thou  wilt,"  he  said,  tranquilly. 
Gunther  held  out  his  hand  in  welcome: 

"Come  thou  in  friendship,  Siegfried,"  he  begged;  and 
Seigfried  gave  Crane's  bridle  into  Hagen's  hand. 

"Care  well  for  the  horse,  Hagen;  for  it  is  of  the  might- 
iest strain  ever  known,  and  dear  to  me  as  my  eyes;  but 
how  do  you  know  my  name?"  he  asked  curiously  of 
Gunther. 

"Thou  hast  the  appearance  of  that  bold  knight  of 
whom  all  have  heard.  There  can  be  no  braver  in  the 
world,  and  if  thou  art  not  he  I  know  not  who  thou  art," 
Gunther  answered,  and,  unseen  by  Siegfried,  he  motioned 
his  sister  to  leave  the  hall  before  they  entered  it. 

"These  lands  and  people  are  mine,"  he  continued, 
leading  the  way.  "This  great  hall  is  my  heritage,  and 
my  kinsmen  are  legion.  I  give  all  to  you;  share  all 
with  me.  Let  us  dwell  together  in  peace."  At  this 
saying  a  beautiful  light  came  into  Siegfried's  face. 

"I  have  neither  kinsmen  nor  lands,"  he  answered, 
much  moved;  "but  I  have  this  good  sword,  Nothung, 
which  I  forged  myself  and  it,  with  my  life,  shall  be  thine." 
Thus  they  made  a  compact  of  brotherhood. 

"Dost  thou  not  own  the  treasure  of  the  Nibelungen, 
then?"     Haged  asked. 

"True,  but  when  I  won  it  I  let  all  but  the  ring  and  the 
Tarnhelm  lie.  I  cared  naught  for  the  gold."  He  held 
up  the  Tarnhelm  for  them  to  see. 

"Aye,  'tis  the  Tarnhelm!"  Hagen  cried.  "Thou  hast 
only  to  set  it  on  thy  head  to  be  transformed  into  what 
thou  wilt.     Put  it  on  thy  head  and  wish  it  so,  and  thou 


382  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

wilt  be  transported  in  a  trice  to  other  lands.  But  there 
is  also  the  ring " 

"Aye,"  Siegfried  said  tenderly;  "but  that  is  held  by 
a  woman."  Hagen  and  Gunther  looked  at  each  other, 
meaningly,  for  they  knew  he  spoke  of  Briinnhilde. 

"Brother,  call  Gutrune  to  bring  Siegfried  a  refreshing 
drink,"  Hagen  said,  and  Gunther  opening  the  door  called 
to  his  sister  who  came  out  and  offered  the  magic  drink 
to  the  knight. 

No  sooner  had  he  drunk,  than  he  raised  his  eyes  to 
thank  Gutrune  and  beholding  her,  loved  her. 

"I  drink  to  thee,  dear  Briinnhilde,"  he  had  been  about 
to  say,  but  looking,  he  loved  another. 

"What  is  thy  sister's  name?"  he  asked  of  Gunther  in 
a  low  voice,  scarcely  daring  to  speak  for  fear  his  love 
would  depart. 

"Gutrune." 

*'I  must  have  her  for  my  wife.  Hast  thou  not  a  wife, 
Gunther  —  why  hast  thou  none?"  he  said,  not  waiting 
for  one  question  to  be  answered  before  asking  another. 

"Alas,  I  have  no  wife  because  I  have  set  my  heart  on 
one  I  may  not  have.  I  long  for  Briinnhilde,  the  Valkyrie 
maid  who  lies  surrounded  by  fire  —  and  I  may  not  cross 
the  flame." 

"What!  Is  that  thy  only  reason  for  being  lonely? 
Then  thou  shalt  have  thy  Briinnhilde.  If  Gutrune  may 
be  mine,  I  will  win  thy  Briinnhilde  for  thee.  Wearing 
the  Tarnhelm  I  shall  change  my  shape  to  thine,  and  as 
thy  brother  go  through  fire  for  thee  and  bring  forth  the 
maid." 

"Ah,"  the  Gibichung  cried,  joyfully;  "our  oath  of 
brotherhood  upon  that!  Gutrune  shall  be  thine,  thou 
ours,  Briinnhilde  mine." 


TJie  Dusk  of  the  Gods  383 

Thus  it  was  agreed.  Hagen  filled  a  drinking  horn, 
while  the  two  men  cut  their  arms  and  let  their  blood  mingle 
in  the  cup.  Having  drunk,  they  swore  fidelity  in  the 
drink,  and  Hagen  cut  the  horn  in  two  wath  a  single  blow, 
while  Siegfried  and  Gunther  joined  hands. 

Putting  on  his  armour  again,  Siegfried  declared  they 
should  at  once  go  forth  and  win  Briinnhilde  for  Gunther. 

"Wilt  thou  not  rest,  first?" 

So  eager  was  the  enchanted  Siegfried  to  win  for  another 
his  own  bride  that  he  would  take  no  rest  till  it  was  done; 
so  Hagen  was  left  to  guard  the  hall  till  their  return.  Soon 
Gunther  and  the  knight  were  pushing  off  from  the  river 
bank,  and  floating  down  the  middle  of  the  stream. 

Hagen,  the  half  Gibichung,  half  Nibelung,  thought  of 
nothing  but  winning  the  Rheingold  for  the  Nibelungs. 
He  had  sent  Gunther  after  another's  bride,  by  means  of 
an  evil  enchantment,  and  when  she  was  brought  to  the 
hail,  she  would  certainly  be  wearing  the  ring.  Thus  the 
prize  of  the  Nibelungen  would  once  more  be  within  the 
grasp  of  an  evil  race,  and  that  which  might  be  a  power 
for  good  if  rightly  used,  would  become  a  power  for  evil 
and  be  badly  abused. 

Scene  III 

While  Siegfried  and  Gunther  were  on  their  way  to  fetch 
Briinnhilde,  she  sat  lonely  ujion  her  rock,  looking  at 
the  ring  given  her  by  Siegfried.  As  long  as  she  looked 
upon  it,  she  felt  Siegfried  to  be  near;  nevertheless  she 
was  lonely.     Very  soon  she  heard  the  thunder. 

"It  is  Donner!  It  is  like  a  greeting  to  me  from  the 
Eternals,"  she  thought,  smiling  half  sadly.  Once  again 
she  heard  it  and  saw  the  flash  of  lightning.     In  the  clouds, 


384  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

she  saw  Waltraute,  her  sister,  coming  on  her  winged 
horse,  and  Briinnhilde  started  up  joyfully. 

"Wotan  has  forgiven  me,"  she  cried,  running  to  meet 
Waltraute,  who  arrived  in  great  excitement. 

"Briinnhilde,  I  have  braved  the  war-father's  wrath 
to  beg  thee  to  save  the  Eternals,"  she  cried.  "Since  the 
day  of  thine  enchantment  Wotan  has  sent  us  no  more  to 
the  battle-field  for  heroes.  He  has  roamed  over  all  the 
earth,  till  he  is  known  as  the  Wanderer.  One  day  he 
returned  to  Walhall  with  his  spear  broken,  and  he  ordered 
the  ash  tree  to  be  hewn  in  pieces  and  its  splinters  piled 
about  Walhall.  Then  he  summoned  all  our  heroes  about 
him,  mounted  the  throne  with  his  broken  spear  in  his 
hand,  and  while  we  Valkyries  crouched  at  his  feet,  he 
closed  his  eyes  and  seemed  to  wait  for  calamity  to  over- 
whelm us. 

"At  last  in  despair  I  threw  myself  upon  his  breast  and 
demanded  to  know  our  fate.  He  told  me  that  the  Nibe- 
lungs'  ring  was  now  yours,  and  that  should  you  restore 
it  to  the  Rhein-daughters,  the  Eternals  would  once  more 
be  given  back  their  life  and  youth,  and  all  would  be  well 
with  the  world.  Now  I  have  fled  to  thee  to  beg  thee  to 
save  us  by  restoring  the  ring." 

At  that,  Briinnhilde  looked  at  her  sister  sorrowfully. 
"The  ring  given  me  by  Siegfried?  Nay!  I  will  never 
give  up  my  ring.  So  hasten  back  to  Walhall,  sister.  I 
cannot  aid  thee."  Sadly  embracing  the  despairing  Val- 
kyrie, Briinnhilde  parted  from  her. 

Mounting  her  winged  horse,  Waltraute  rose  among 
the  clouds  whose  bright  eJuFulgence  was  watched  sadly  by 
Briinnhilde,  till  with  the  last  sight  of  the  Valkyrie,  the 
evening  closed  in  and  the  fire  which  guarded  the  beautiful 
maid  began  to  be  reflected  again  from  below.     Soon  the 


The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  385 

flames  seemed  to  leap  with  anger,  and  Briinnhilde  watched 
the  strange  sight  with  anxiety.  Suddenly  she  heard  a 
call.  It  was  Siegfried's.  She  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff 
to  look  below,  and  almost  instantly  he  appeared,  rushing 
to  her  through  the  flames  which  immediately  grew  dull. 
The  knight  wore  the  Tarnhelm,  but  it  hid  only  the  half 
of  his  face,  and  his  eyes  were  visible.  His  form  was 
strange  to  Briinnhilde  because  he  had  changed  into  the 
image  of  Gunther,  and  when  she  looked  at  the  unknown 
figure  she  shrieked.     Then  she  whispered: 

"Who  Cometh?"  At  first  Siegfried  stood  motionless, 
leaning  upon  his  spear.     Then  he  said  in  a  strange  voice: 

"I  am  a  Gibichung  come  to  wed  thee."  This  made 
Briinnliilde  frantic  ^\■ith  terror,  and  to  protect  herself  she 
stretched  out  the  hand  which  wore  the  ring. 

"Go  back,"  she  cried,  but  Siegfried  in  the  guise  of 
Gunther  tore  the  ring  from  her,  and  after  that  she  had  no 
more  strength  to  fly  from  him,  so  seizing  her  he  carried 
her  away  to  the  hall  of  the  Gibichungs. 

ACT   II 

Back  at  the  home  of  the  Gibichungs  sat  Hagen,  await- 
ing the  return  of  Gunther  and  Siegfried.  Altars  to 
Fricka,  Donner,  and  Wotan  were  raised  upon  the  Rhein, 
ready  for  sacrifices  to  be  offered,  when  Gunther  should 
return  with  Briinnhilde  for  his  bride. 

Toward  evening,  Hagen  sat  just  inside  the  entrance 
hall  asleep  and  leaning  upon  his  spear,  his  shield  beside 
him.  When  the  bright  moon  rose  above  the  river,  Al- 
berich  could  be  seen  crouching  at  Hagen's  knees,  whis- 
pering evil  dreams  to  him. 

"Thou  art  my  son,"  he  said,  "and  must  win  back  the 


386  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Rheingold  for  the  Nibelungen";  and  in  his  dreams,  Hagen 
promised  to  follow  the  counsel.  Then  the  moon's  light 
was  hidden,  and  in  the  darkness  Alberich  disappeared. 
When  he  had  gone,  the  dawn  broke.  Hagen  woke  and 
looked  out  upon  the  peacefully  flowing  Rhein. 

Scene  II 

As  the  Rhein  grew  redder  and  redder  in  the  morning 
light,  Hagen  heard  Siegfried's  call  and,  all  at  once,  the 
knight's  head  rose  above  the  river's  bank.  He  still  wore 
the  Tarnhelm  upon  his  head,  but  appeared  in  his  own 
shape. 

"Waken  and  greet  me,  Hagen!"  he  cried  gaily. 

"Where  are  Briinnhilde  and  Gunther?"  Hagen  called, 
going  to  meet  Siegfried. 

"  They  follow,  more  slowly,  in  the  boat.  When  I  called 
to  thee  just  now,  I  was  miles  away  —  at  Briinnhilde's 
rock;  but  with  the  Tarnhelm  upon  my  head,  I  arrived 
before  thou  couldst  answer.  WTiere  is  the  beautiful 
Gutrune?" 

"She  will  come  at  once  to  hear  thy  tale  and  to  greet 
thee."  Hagen  called  to  her,  and  she  appeared  to  learn 
of  Briinnhilde's  coming  with  her  brother.  She  looked 
shyly  at  Siegfried. 

"Let  us  call  all  to  the  wedding  and  greet  Briinnhilde 
gaily,  that  she  may  be  glad  to  dwell  with  us,  and 
not  sigh  for  her  mountain  rock,"  she  cried;  and 
Siegfried,  taking  her  hand,  went  with  her  to  prepare 
the  feast. 

Meanwhile,  Hagen,  watching  from  a  high  rock,  blew 
upon  his  cow-horn  as  he  saw  a  boat  slowly  coming  up 
the  river  bearing  Gunther  and  Briinnhilde. 


The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  387 

Scene  III 

"Ho!  Vassals!  Come!  Hither  come  ye  with  your  arms!" 
he  shouted,  blowing  again  a  sharp  blast  upon  the  horn. 
In  response  the  warriors  of  Gunther  began  to  pour  from 
the  hall,  and  to  run  in  great  excitement  to  the  river-bank. 

"What  do  we  gather  for?  Whom  shall  we  fight?  Is 
our  Lord,  Gunther,  in  danger?" 

"He  comes  liither  with  a  Valkyrie  maid,  and  ye  are 
to  make  sacrifices  to  the  Gods.  Kill  ye  a  boar  for  Froh, 
a  goat  for  Donner,  and  for  Fricka  kill  a  sheep.  After 
ye  have  done  those  things,  take  the  drinking  horns  and 
drink  yourselves  drunk  in  honour  of  the  Gods." 

The  vassals  went,  some  of  them  to  the  river's  bank  to 
receive  Gunther  and  Briinnhilde,  some  to  the  hall  to  await 
their  coming,  and  to  welcome  them  upon  its  threshold. 

"If  any  one  has  done  your  Lord's  bride  wrong,  see  that 
ye  avenge  her,"  Hagen  forewarned.  He  was  already 
beginning  to  stir  up  strife  for  Siegfried  in  accordance  with 
Alberich's  advice. 

Scene  IV 

Clashing  their  shields  and  arms  together,  the  vassals 
formed  a  line  through  which  Briinnhilde  and  Gunther 
should  pass,  and  when  the  boat  reached  the  landing  place 
all  cried  "Hail I"  But  Hagen  stood  silently  watching, 
planning  Siegfried's  ruin. 

When  the  pair  stepped  ashore,  Briinnhilde  walked 
with  eyes  cast  down,  full  of  despair  and  sorrow,  while 
Gunther  led  her  by  the  hand. 

They  reached  the  hall,  where  Siegfried  and  Gutrune 
stood  to  welcome  them,  and  the  men  hailed  each  other 


388  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

as  brother.  Gunther  rejoiced  that  Siegfried  had  won 
Gutrune  for  his  wife,  but  Briinnhilde  raised  her  eyes  to 
the  knight,  and  beholding  her  own  husband,  the  hero 
knight,  she  gave  a  great  cry: 

"Siegfried  here?"  She  became  distracted  with  horror. 
But  Siegfried  did  not  know  her,  and  all  her  entreaties 
were  in  vain,  since  he  was  still  enchanted  by  the  potion. 

Suddenly  the  Valkyrie  maid  saw  the  Nibelungen  ring 
upon  Siegfried 's  finger,  and  she  pointed  to  it,  trembling. 
Gunther,  astounded  by  her  appearance,  touched  her. 

"Regard  thy  husband,  Briinnhilde,"  he  commanded; 
but  instead  of  heeding  him,  she  pointed  to  the  knight. 

"He  is  my  husband,"  she  cried,  and  Hagen  at  once 
demanded  that  all  should  give  heed  to  what  she  might 
say.     He  foresaw  the  downfall  of  Siegfried,  in  her  words. 

"The  one  who  won  me,  wore  that  ring,"  she  said,  point- 
ing to  it  with  shaking  hand.  "He  was  the  image  of 
Gunther,  then,  and  he  took  the  ring  from  me."  Gunther 
looked  at  Siegfried  and  frowned  while  all  stared  at  the  men 
and  at  Briinnhilde  in  amazement. 

"It  was  he  who  wrenched  the  ring  from  me,"  she  de- 
clared, pointing  to  Gunther,  "yet  it  is  this  knight  who 
wears  it."  Gunther  denied  having  given  or  taken  from 
her  the  ring,  and  Siegfried  declared  she  did  not  speak  the 
truth.  Gunther  feared  to  have  it  known  that  he  had 
not  dared  the  flame  himself,  for  his  bride,  and  yet  he  feared 
Siegfried  had  betrayed  his  honour.  There  was  confusion 
among  the  spectators  who  said  among  themselves: 

"Whose  wife  can  Briinnhilde  be?"  But  Siegfried, 
having  quite  forgotten  the  woman  he  so  dearly  loved, 
declared  that  he  had  got  the  ring  he  wore  from  no  woman, 
but  had  taken  it  from  a  dragon,  whom  he  attacked  in  his 
lair,  and  killed.     This  was  true,  of  course,  but  it  was  also 


The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  389 

true  that  he  had  given  the  ring  to  Briinnhilde  and  under 
a  wicked  enchantment  had  taken  it  away, 

Hagen  spoke  next,  seeing  a  chance  to  gain  the  ring  for 
the  Nibelungs: 

"Briinnhilde,  thou  sayest  it  was  Gunther  who  wooed 
thee,  and  that  it  was  he  who  took  the  ring  from  thee? 
Since  that  is  true,  Siegfried  has  won  the  ring  by  some 
false  deed.  It  must  have  been  Siegfried  who  came  to 
thee  in  the  guise  of  Gunther." 

At  this  all  the  vassals  murmured,  and  Gunther  began 
to  feel  resentment,  notwithstanding  the  part  he  had 
played  in  the  deception.  Briinnhilde  wildly  accused 
them  both,  and  everybody  cried  out  against  Siegfried, 
Gutrune,  too,  accusing  him.  All  the  women  called  upon 
the  knight  to  defend  himself  if  he  could,  but  he  called 
for  the  spear's  point  on  which  to  take  an  oath.  When 
Hagen  presented  the  spear  to  liim,  the  knight  laid  his 
two  fingers  upon  it  and  swore  that  he  had  been  a  faithful 
friend  to  Gunther,  and  that  Briinnhilde's  words  were 
false.  Briinnhilde,  thus  wronged,  struck  his  hand  from 
the  spear  and  placing  her  own  upon  it,  swore  that  Siegfried 
should  die  by  that  same  spear's  point. 

By  this  time  the  quarrel  had  waxed  so  hot  that  the  vas- 
sals and  women  called  upon  Donner  to  send  his  thunder, 
to  silence  it. 

In  the  midst  of  the  threats  and  confusion,  Siegfried 
went  close  to  Gunther  and  said  aside: 

"Brother,  I  am  sorrier  than  thou  art  for  all  this,  but  it 
must  have  been  the  fault  of  the  Tarnhelm  which  must 
have  hidden  only  half  of  me.  Thus,  Briinnhilde  cannot 
know  whose  wife  she  really  is.  But  thou  knowest  well, 
that  I  won  her  for  thee,  and  have  no  love  for  any  but 
Gutrune.     Come,  let's  be  gay,  and  leave  this  poor  girl 


390  Operas  Every  Child  Shotdd  Know 

to  rest,  so  that  she  may  recover  herself.  Like  enough 
it  is  the  strangeness  of  this  place,  after  her  wild,  free  life 
in  her  mountains,  that  gives  her  these  uncanny  thoughts." 
Gunther,  convinced  by  Siegfried's  words,  joined  him  in 
urging  all  to  make  gay  upon  this  day  of  double  marriage, 
and  finally  they  followed  Siegfried  out  into  the  forest, 
shouting  and  laughing,  to  feast  and  make  sacrifices. 

Scene  V 

Briinnhilde,  Gunther,  and  Hagen  remained  in  the  hall 
after  Siegfried  had  been  followed  out  by  the  company, 
and  the  Valkyrie  stood,  gloomily  bewailing  her  fate;  till 
Hagen,  watching  fate  work  Siegfried's  ruin,  went  at  last 
to  the  unhappy  wife, 

"Give  me  thy  trust,  Briinnhilde,"  he  said;  "I  will 
avenge  thy  wrongs." 

"How  wilt  thou  avenge  me?  One  glance  of  Siegfried's 
eye  would  kill  thee,  if  he  so  willed  it."  she  answered, 
looking  at  Hagen  darkly.  "No  weapon  can  pierce  him 
in  battle:  I  enchanted  him  against  all  danger  —  except 
some  one  thrust  at  him  from  behind.  In  the  back  I  did 
not  guard  him.  I  would  not  protect  him  in  cowardice, 
but  Siegfried  will  never  turn  his  back  upon  the  enemy. 
Thou  canst  not  kill  him  in  battle." 

Gunther  then  began  to  bemoan  his  disgrace;  but 
Briinnhilde  turned  upon  him. 

"Oh,  thou  most  cowardly  of  men  —  betrayed  and 
betrayer!  If  I  dealt  justice,  the  whole  world's  destruc- 
tion could  not  pay  for  the  wrong  done  me." 

"Naught  but  Siegfried's  death  can  wipe  out  the  wrong," 
Hagen  cried,  watching  Briinnhilde  as  he  spoke.  "Since 
he  cannot  be  killed  in  battle,  listen  to  my  plan !    To-mor- 


The  Dusk  of  the  Gods 


391 


row  we  hunt  in  honour  of  the  weddings  of  Gutnine  and  the 
knight,  Gunther  and  thee.  While  in  the  chase,  and  Sieg- 
fried all  unsuspecting,  I  shall  thrust  at  him  from  behind. ' ' 

"So  let  it  be,"  Briinnhilde  cried,  and  Gunther,  too 
cowardly  to  know  the  right,  consented.  With  the  mor- 
row's tragedy  arranged  Hagen  saw  the  way  at  last  to 
possess  himself  of  the  Nibelungen  ring. 

As  they  decided  upon  the  deed,  the  bridal  procession 
came  from  the  inner  hall.  All  the  vassals  and  women 
bore  spears  and  flowers.  Gutrune  and  Siegfried  were 
carried  aloft,  upon  shields,  and  as  Briinnhilde  and  Gunther 
met  them,  they  too,  were  hoisted  high  and  the  procession 
moved  onward,  toward  the  altars  on  the  river's  bank, 
where  they  were  to  offer  sacrifices  unto  the  Gods. 

ACT   III 


392 


Operas  Every  Child  ^Should  Know 


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Three  days  had  passed  since  the  Rhein-daughters 
had  lost  their  golden  treasure,  and  on  the  fourth  they 
were  swimming  near  the  surface  of  the  river,  popping 
their  heads  up  and  caUing  to  each  other,  when  they  heard 
the  sound  of  the  Gibichung  hunters.  Fearing  to  be 
caught  by  mortals,  they  dived  to  the  bottom  of  the  Rhein. 
No  sooner  had  they  disappeared  than  Siegfried  came  into 


The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  393 

the  wood,  armed  for  the  hunt.  He  had  lost  his  way, 
having  followed  his  game,  far  from  the  others,  and  as  he 
began  to  complain  that  he  had  that  day  got  no  game,  the 
Rhein-daughters  rose  again  to  the  surface  and  mocked 
him. 

"If  we  grant  thee  some  game  to-day,  wHt  thou  give 
us  that  ring  upon  thy  finger?"  they  called  to  him. 

"What!  In  return  for  a  paltry  bearskin  give  to  you 
a  ring  which  I  gained  in  battling  with  the  Dragon?  "  he 
laughed,  "nay." 

"Ah,  maybe  thou  hast  a  scold  for  a  wife,  who  would 
make  thee  feel  her  blows  if  thou  gavest  away  the  ring." 
This  tormenting  reply  annoyed  Siegfried  and  finally  he 
took  off  the  ring  and  held  it  up  to  them,  offering  it  if 
they  would  cease  to  deride  him.  Then  they  regarded  him 
gravely. 

"Keep  that  ring,"  they  said,  "till  thou  hast  tasted  the 
ill-fate  that  goes  with  it;  after  that  thou  wilt  gladly  give 
it  to  us.  Now  thou  art  parting  with  it,  reluctantly."  So 
Siegfried  replaced  the  ring  on  his  finger. 

"Tell  me  the  ring's  secret,  wilt  thou?"  he  asked,  and 
the  maidens  told  him  that  it  was  accursed,  and  that  very 
day,  even  while  he  thought  himself  so  safe  and  fortunate, 
his  death  was  determined. 

Upon  hearing  this,  Sicgfri'ed  became  troubled  and  told 
them  to  hold  their  i^eace.  So  they  swam  away,  while 
he  stood  watching  them,  reflecting  gravely,  till  he  heard 
Hagen's  horn  sound  through  the  forest. 

Scene  II 

Hearing  Hagen's  horn,  Siegfried  wound  his  own  in 
re[)!y,  and  soon  Hagen,  followed  by  Gunther  and  his  vas- 


394  Operas  Every  Child  Shauld  Know 

sals,  entered  the  glade  and  flung  their  game  in  a 
great  heap. 

"Ah,  this  is  where  thou  hast  hidden  thyself?"  Hagen 
cried,  gaily.  "  Come,  let  us  all  rest  a  while,"  and  he  threw 
himself  down  upon  the  ground.  "The  chase  has  wearied 
us,  so  let  us  have  the  wine-skins  and  drink  heartily." 

"  I  shall  have  to  share  your  booty,  if  I  am  to  eat,"  Sieg- 
fried laughed,  "for  I  have  had  no  luck  to-day.  I  might 
have  found  game,  but  I  followed  the  water-birds  and 
heard  from  them  a  tale  of  disaster.  It  seems  that  I  am 
to  meet  my  death  to-day."  Hagen  and  Gunther  started 
and  looked  meaningly  at  each  other.  Siegfried,  all  un- 
suspecting, threw  himself  down  between  Hagen  and 
Gunther  to  drink  his  wdne,  and  presently,  seeing  Gunther 
downcast,  he  sat  up  and  began  to  while  the  time  by  telling 
tales  of  his  youth  —  how  he  had  lived  with  the  Mime; 
how  he  had  forged  liis  good  sword  Nothung.  After  he  had 
told  about  Fafner  the  Dragon,  Hagen  interrupted  him  and 
bade  him  drink  again.  Then  he  gave  Siegfried  a  horn 
of  wine,  into  which  he  had  unnoticed  poured  another 
potion,  which  was  to  disenchant  the  knight.  As  in  a 
dream,  Siegfried's  memory  returned.  He  told  of  slaying 
the  Dragon,  and  then  of  the  little  bird  who  directed  him 
to  a  beautiful  maiden  who  slept  upon  a  rock,  surrounded 
by  fire. 

"It  was  Briinnhilde,"  he  cried,  joyfully;  "I  waked  her 
and  made  her  mine."  At  this  saying,  all  the  company 
roused  themselves  and  regarded  each  other  with  troubled 
looks.  Siegfried  had  confirmed  the  story  that  Briinn- 
hilde had  told. 

At  that  moment  two  ravens,  which  Wotan  had  sent 
out  from  Walhall  to  learn  the  time  when  the  doom  of  the 
Eternals  had  come,  flew  from  a  thicket  near  by,  and 


The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  395 

Siegfried  raised  himself  up  to  watch  them.  He  turned 
his  back  to  Hagen,  and  instantly  the  warrior  plunged  his 
sword  into  the  knight's  back  and  Siegfried  fell  dead. 

There  was  a  frightful  outcry  then  from  all,  and  Gunther, 
remembering  the  truth,  knowing  that  Siegfried  had  been 
betrayed  by  magic,  and  had  believed  himself  to  be  serv- 
ing Gunther  without  harm,  felt  remorse  and  knelt  beside 
the  body.  Hagen  turned  away  and  went  into  the  hills, 
while  the  vassals  gathered  about,  prepared  to  take  the 
body  to  the  hall  of  the  Gibichungs.  As  the  funeral  pro- 
cession moved  off,  to  the  measure  of  wonderful  music, 
the  moon  rose,  its  light  flooded  all  the  valley,  and  touched 
the  corpse. 

Back  at  the  hall,  Gutrune  had  risen  from  sleep,  believing 
she  heard  some  strange,  threatening  sound.  First  she 
went  to  Briinnhilde's  door,  but  she  appeared  to  be 
asleep.  Next  she  went  to  the  entrance  of  the  great  hall 
and  listened,  but  she  heard  nothing;  then  after  a  little 
she  saw  Hagen,  wearing  a  fearful  look,  coming  from  the 
river's  bank.  Something  in  her  heart  told  her  that  a 
dreadful  thing  had  happened. 

"What  misfortune  has  come  to  Siegfried?"  she  cried. 

''They  come  —  bearing  his  body,"  Hagen  answered, 
looking  upon  the  ground. 

Scene  III 

After  Hagen,  came  the  men  bearmg  the  body,  and 
when  Gutrune  saw  it,  she  shrieked  and  fell  upon  it. 

"Who  hath  done  this  wicked  thing?"  she  shrieked, 
and  Hagen  looked  at  Gunther. 

"Nay,"  said  Gunther,  shaking  his  head  angrily,  "do 
not  look  at  me.     It  was  not  1  who  did  this.     It  was  that 


396  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

accursed  man,"  and  he  pointed  to  Hagen.  Already  the 
fight  for  the  ring,  in  the  hall  of  the  Gibichungs  was  be- 
ginning to  divide  brothers.  "May  grief  and  ill-fate  be 
thine,  forever!" 

"Well,"  said  Hagen,  "I  admit  the  deed,  and  now  I 
claim  my  heritage — the  ring  of  the  Nibelungen!"  He 
tried  to  take  the  ring  from  the  dead  man's  finger. 

"Never  shalt  thou  have  it,"  Gutrune  cried,  flinging 
herself  upon  him. 

"Away!  What  I  have  won,  thou  shalt  ne'er  make 
thine!"  Gunther  shouted.  "Dost  think  to  grasp  Gut- 
rune's  dower?"  The  two  men  fell  a-figh ting;  and  Hagen, 
piercing  Gunther's  breast,  sprang  aside,  while  Gunther 
fell  dead.  Instantly  Hagen  leaped  toward  Siegfried's 
body  to  snatch  the  ring;  but  slowly,  slowly  the  dead  hand 
was  raised  threateningly,  and  Gutrune  shrieked  out. 

Briinnhilde,  who  now  appeared,  advanced  toward  the 
corpse,    solemnly. 

"Do  ye  who  have  betrayed  me,  now  think  to  make 
that  which  is  mine  your  own?  "  she  asked,  looking  at  the 
company  contemptuously,  and  speaking  in  a  grave  voice. 
"Thou  wert  no  wife  of  his,"  she  said  to  Gutrune.  "Naught 
that  was  his  is  thine."  Gutrune  looked  steadily  at  Bninn- 
hilde,  and  believing  that  she  spoke  the  truth,  she  crouched 
down  beside  her  brother's  body,  and  did  not  move  again. 
Briinnhilde 's  appearance  was  so  noble  that  her  word 
convinced  everybody  and  more  than  that,  Siegfried's 
story  and  his  last  cry  had  told  them  the  truth. 

"Now,"  said  Briinnhilde  to  the  vassals,  "bring  great 
logs  and  heap  them  high  beside  the  river  Rhein.  There 
shalt  Siegfried's  body  find  a  tomb.  Bring,  too,  his  steed, 
and  let  it  await  me,  here."  While  Briinnhilde  knelt 
beside  Siegfried's  beloved  body,  the  men  heaped  up  the 


The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  397 

logs  and  the  women  strewed  the  top  of  the  pile  with  gar- 
lands. The  vassals  came  for  Siegfried's  body  and  as  they 
lifted  it,  Briinnhilde  drew  the  ring  from  his  finger. 

"There,  ye  sorrowing  Rhein  maidens,  I  give  ye  back 
this  accursed  ring,''  she  cried.  "Give  heed,  ye  wayward 
sisters;  this  ring  which  has  brought  so  much  sorrow  to 
Gods  and  men,  shall  now  become  yours.  I  thus  restore 
the  Rheingold  to  its  owners.  I  place  the  ring  upon  my 
finger,  and  when  I  have  leaped  into  the  flames  beside  my 
Siegfried,  the  ring  shall  be  purged  by  fire  from  all  the 
stains  that  have  come  upon  it  since  it  was  so  wrongfully 
come  by.  Take  the  ring  from  amid  the  ashes,  and 
return  with  it  to  your  water-home."  She  flung  a  great 
brand  upon  the  heap  of  wood  where  Siegfried's  body 
lay,  and  immediately  two  ravens  flew  from  the  heap. 

"Go  thou,  ye  ravens,  to  Walhall,  and  tell  Wotan  what 
ye  have  seen.  The  end  of  Godhood  is  near.  Then  go  to 
the  rock  where  Loge  burneth  and  tell  him  to  go  to  Wal- 
hall." The  ravens  flew  away,  while  the  flames  leaped  about 
Siegfried.  Turning  to  the  horse,  Grane,  and  putting  her 
hand  lovingly  upon  him,  Briinnhilde  took  off  his  bridle. 
"Now,  Siegfried,  we  join  thee,"  she  cried,  and  giving  her 
great  war-cry,  Briinnhilde  sprang  upon  the  horse,  and 
together  they  leaped  uj)()n  the  burning  bier.  Instantly 
the  flames  roared  and  flared  high  and  seemed  to  seize 
upon  the  Hall  of  the  Gibichungs,  while  all  the  company 
fled,  crowding  close  together.  When  the  fire  was  at  its 
worst,  the  river  Rhein  overflowed  its  banks  and  rolled 
upon  the  land,  extinguishing  the  flames.  On  the  waves, 
the  three  Rhein-daughtcrs  swam  and  hovered  over  the 
[)lace  where  the  bodies  were.  Hagcn,  who  saw  be- 
fore him  the  loss  of  tlie  ring,  became  frantic  with  despair, 
so  he  rushed  into  the  flood,  to  wrench  the  treasure  from 


398  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

the  maidens,  but  Woglinde  and  Wellgunde  threw  their 
arms  about  him,  dragged  him  down  into  the  depths,  and 
swam  away  with  him. 

Flosshilde,  having  found  the  ring,  swam  before  them, 
holding  up  the  prize  triumphantly.  A  great  bank  of 
clouds  had  piled  up  beyond  the  river,  and  soon  this 
began  to  glow%  as  if  with  fire.  The  Rhein  returned  to 
its  natural  bed,  wliile  the  maidens  swam  once  more  hap- 
pily in  its  waters.  The  Hall  of  the  Gibichungs  had  been 
destroyed,  and  all  the  vassals  and  women  had  crowded 
together,  watching  the  scene  with  horror  and  wonderment. 
As  the  fiery  clouds  glowed  more  and  more  brightly,  the 
Palace  of  the  Gods  appeared,  and  the  inner  courts  of 
Walhall  could  be  seen,  brightly  lighted  by  the  fire  which 
was  consuming  it.  Wotan  and  the  Eternals  sat  within, 
surrounded  by  the  heroes  and  the  Valkyries.  AH  awaited 
the  flames  without  resistance,  and  as  the  Gibichungs 
looked,  Loge,  the  spirit  of  flame,  seized  upon  everything 
and  the  Eternals  were  seen  no  more. 


^Mastersingers. 


THE   MASTERSINGERS  OF  NUREMBERG 

CHARACTERS   OF   THE   OPERA 

Hans  Sachs,  shoemaker 

Veit  Pogner,  goldsmith 

Kunz  Vogelgesand,  furrier 

Konrad  ^sachtigal,  tinsmith 

Sixtus  Beckmesser,  town  clerk 

Fritz  Kothner,  baker 

Balthasar  Zorn,  pewterer 

Ulrich  Eisslinger,  grocer 

Augustin  Moser,  tailor 

Hermann  Ortel,  soap  boiler 

Hans  Schwarz,  stocking  weaver 

Hans  Foltz,  coppersmith 

Wallher  von  Stolzing,  a  young  knight  from  Franconia. 

David,  Sachs's  apprentice. 

Eva,  Pogner's  daughter. 

Magdalene,  Eva's  nurse. 

Night  Watchman. 

Burghers,  women  of  all  guilds,  journeymen,  apprentices,  girls,  and 
people. 

The  action  takes  place  in  Nuremberg  about  the  middle  of  the  six- 
teenth century. 

Composer:  Richard  Wagner, 

ACT  I 

Four  hundred  years  ago  in  NuremlxTg  there  was  a 
great  rivalry  among  the  townsmen,  as  to  who  was  the  best 
singer.  Indeed,  in  the  history  of  this  great  yearly  com- 
petition, some  had  become  so  noted  for  their  excellence,  that 
in  a  spirit  of  fairness  they  had  almost  ceased  to  compete. 
There  were  twelve  JVIastersingers,  and  this  number  was 
to  be  added  to   by   future   competitions.     Among   those 

399 


400  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

who  had  removed  themselves  from  the  contest  (because 
his  previous  successes  made  it  unfair  that  he  should  con- 
tinue) was  Hans  Sachs,  the  cobbler.  Hans  was  beloved  by 
all,  and  had  a  spirit  as  well  as  a  genius  above  his  fellows. 

The  prize  for  which  the  singers  contended  had  hitherto 
been  a  sum  of  money,  given  by  the  rich  man  of  the  city, 
one  Veit  Pogner,  a  goldsmith,  but  upon  the  occasion  we 
are  about  to  describe  he  had  decided  to  make  the  prize 
far  more  precious.  He  agreed  to  give  his  daughter  Eva 
in  marriage  to  the  best  singer,  provided  she  could  love 
him;  and  if  she  could  not  love  him,  she  was  to  live  un- 
married for  the  rest  of  her  days. 

On  the  morning  of  the  preliminary  trial,  when  those 
qualified  to  enter  the  real  competition  were  to  be  chosen, 
the  good  folk  of  Nuremberg  were  assembled  in  the  church, 
singing  the  last  hymn.  Eva  and  her  nurse,  Magdalene, 
were  there  and  also  the  knight,  Walther  von  Stolzing, 
a  newcomer  in  Nuremberg,  greatly  in  love  with  Eva. 
She,  too,  loved  him,  but  it  would  have  displeased  her 
father  had  she  been  seen  speaking  with  the  handsome 
stranger. 

Upon  that  day,  both  the  young  people  lingered  after 
the  others  had  gone,  in  order  to  get  speech  together.  All 
the  time  the  hymn  was  being  sung,  the  two  looked  ten- 
derly at  each  other,  and  these  glances  were  surprised  by 
the  devoted  nurse,  Magdalene.  When  the  service  was 
over,  and  Eva  was  near  the  door,  she  pretended  to  have 
left  her  handkerchief  in  her  pew,  and  she  sent  Magdalene 
back  to  find  it. 

The  lovers  had  but  a  minute  together  before  Magdalene 
returned,  so  Eva  had  to  think  of  a  new  way  to  be  rid  of 
her. 

"Where  can  my  buckle  be,"  she  cried,  looking  about 


The  Mastersingers  of  Nuremberg  401 

her.  "I  must  have  left  that  as  well";  and  back  Magda- 
lene went  the  second  time.  She  had  no  sooner  returned 
than  Eva  found  she  had  forgotten  her  book,  and  back 
the  nurse  went  again,  grumbling  and  declaring  that 
Master  Pogner  would  be  in  a  rage  if  he  knew  what  was 
going  on. 

"Only  promise  that  thou  wilt  marry  me,"  Walther 
urged,  while  the  nurse  was  gone  for  the  last  time. 

"Now  what  do  you  mean  by  standing  there  and  talking 
love?"  jNIagdalene  cried  on  her  return,  angry  and  half 
frightened,  because  she  was  responsible  for  her  nursling's 
conduct.  "Don't  you  know,  Sir  Walther,  that  Eva  is  to 
be  given  in  marriage  to  the  singer  who  shall  this  year  carry 
off  the  prize  —  othervN'ise  she  may  not  marry  at  all?" 

"The  prize?  What  does  she  mean?"  he  questioned, 
greatly  agitated. 

"It  is  for  him  who  shall  prove  to  be  the  best  singer  in 
Nuremberg."     The  knight  looked  dejected. 

"Can  you  not  sing?"     Eva  asked  anxiously. 

"Alas,  I  do  not  know.  I  thmk  not;  I  have  never 
tried.     What  must  I  sing?" 

"A  song  that  you  have  made  yourself,  Sir  Knight; 
you  must  make  both  rhyme  and  music  yourself  accord- 
ing to  the  rules  of  the  Mastersingers." 

"I  fear  I  could  never  do  it  —  unless  I  should  be  in- 
spired by  my  love  for  you.  Alas!  I  fear  we  are  lost 
unless  your  father  can  be  persuaded  to  change  his  mind." 

"Nay,  he  cannot."  Eva  shook  her  head  sadly,  "He 
has  given  his  word  and  cannot  break  it.  You  must 
tr>^  to  sing  for  love  of  me,"  she  pleaded. 

Walther  was  quite  distracted  at  the  prospect.  Mean- 
time, after  the  church  had  become  empty,  David,  the 
apprentice  of  Hans  Sachs,  came  in  with  a  great  piece  of 


402  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

chalk  stuck  in  his  belt,  and  carrying  a  big  rule.  Magda- 
lene was  quite  in  love  with  David,  so  that  when  Eva 
appealed  to  her  for  help,  she  had  turned  her  attention 
to  the  apprentice. 

"David,  what  are  you  doing  there?"  she  cried,  in  order 
to  give  the  lovers  a  little  more  time. 

"Doing?  Why  is  it  not  weighty  business  to-day? 
The  Mastersingers  are  to  have  a  trial  of  voices,  to  be  sure. 
The  pupil,  whoever  he  may  be,  whose  voice  is  fine  and 
whose  composition  breaks  none  of  the  rules  that  govern 
those  things  is  to  be  made  free  to  enter  for  the  prize;  and 
later,  when  the  great  festival  of  song  is  on,  he  may  even 
become  a  Mastersinger,  himself." 

"There,  Sir  Knight,  is  your  opportunity!  You  must 
be  the  pupil.  Eva,  we  must  be  gone  and  leave  Sir  Walther 
to  try  for  thee." 

"Oh,  heaven!  I  am  all  of  a  fright.  I  fear  I  shall 
never  understand  what  is  expected  of  me,"  Walther 
cried  distractedly. 

"David  here  shall  tell  you,  Sir  Walther.  Here,  David, 
help  this  brave  gentleman  all  that  you  can.  I  wish  it." 
She  looked  admonishment  at  him. 

"Tell  him  all  the  plan  of  the  Alastersingers  and  how  they 
will  expect  him  to  conduct  himself  in  the  competition. 
Come,  Eva."  But  Eva  still  lingered.  In  came  two  other 
apprentices,  bearing  benches.  Walther  watched  those 
formidable  preparations  with  uneasiness,  walking  up 
and  down  the  church  in  dismay. 

"Good  heaven!  I  am  sure  I  cannot  sing.  I  have 
never  tried  to  sing.  I  shall  never  be  able  to  sing.  Yet 
I  must  sing.  What  in  the  world  can  a  man  do,  in  such 
a  fix?" 

"Well,  well,  do  the  best  you  can.    David  will  instruct 


The  Mastersingers  of  Nuremberg  403 

you,  Sir  Knight,"  said  Magdalene,  and  she  hurried  away 
with  Eva,  leaving  the  poor  knight  alone  with  the  appren- 
tices. 

These  chaps  came  in  thick  and  fast,  bringing  benches  for 
the  Mastersingers  to  sit  upon,  and  arranging  everything 
in  the  church  for  the  trial  of  song.  David  kept  watching 
Walther,  who  had  fiung  himself  into  a  great  ecclesiastical 
chair,  and  sat  there  brooding.  After  observing  him  in 
silence  for  a  time,  David  shouted: 

"Begin,"  Walther  started. 

"What  for?" 

"Begin!" 

"WTiatfor?" 

"WTiat  for?  —  why  that  is  how  the  Marker  calls.  You 
must  then  at  once  go  and  sing.  Don't  you  understand 
anything  about  this  business?  "  he  asked  in  amazement. 

"Who  is  the  Marker?"  Poor  Walther  asked,  more 
and  more  bewildered. 

"Were  you  never  before  at  a  singing  trial?" 

"Not  where  the  judges  were  craftsmen,"  Walther  an- 
swered. He  was  quite  certain  if  he  knew  anything 
about  music,  it  could  not  be  the  kind  that  shoe- 
makers, and  boiler  makers,  and  the  like  were  acquaint- 
ed with. 

"Are  you  a  poet?" 

"I  wish  I  were,"  Walther  sighed  dejectedly. 

"Are  you  then  a  'scholar'?" 

"Lord,  no,  I  think  not  —  I  don't  know.  What  is  a 
'scholar'?" 

"Don't  know  that,  and  yet  expect  to  become  a  Master- 
singer!"  Da\id  cried,  in  amazement.  "Well,  now,  let 
me  tell  you,  Sir  Knight,  no  one  gets  to  be  a  Mastersinger 
in  a  minute!     For  a  full  year,  Hans  Sachs,  our  greatest 


404  Operas  Every  Child  Shoidd  Know 

master,  has  been  teaching  me  the  art,  and  I  am  not  yet 
even  a  'scholar.'" 

Shoemaker's  craft  and  Poet's  art, 

Daily  I  learn  by  the  heart. 

First,  all  the  leather  smooth  I  hammer, 
Consonants  then,  and  vowels  I  stammer. 

Next  must  the  thread  be  stiff  with  wax, 

Then  I  must  learn  it  rhymes  with  Sachs. 

David  continued  to  tell  of  the  difficulties  of  learning 
from  a  cobbler  how  to  become  a  Mastersinger,  though 
the  cobbler  was  one  himself.  By  the  time  David  had 
finished  telling  Walther  about  the  process  of  shoemak- 
ing  and  music  making,  Walther  threw  up  his  hands  in  de- 
spair; 

"Defend  me  from  learning  —  the  cobbler's  trade,"  he 
cried,  half  humorously,  yet  troubled. 

"You  must  learn: 

The  shortened,  long,  and  over-long  tones; 

The  paper  mode,  the  black-ink  mode; 

The  scarlet,  blue,  and  verdant  tones; 

The  hawthorn  bloom,  strawhalm,  fennel  mode; 

The  tender,  the  dulcet,  the  rosy  tone; 

The  passing  passion,  the  forgotten  tone; 

The  rosemary,  wallflower  mode; 

The  rainbow  mode  and  the  nightingale  mode 

The  English  tin,  the  cinnamon  mode. 

Fresh  pomegranates,  green  linden-bloom  mode; 

The  lonely  gormandizer  mode, 

The  skylark,  the  snail,  the  barking  tone; 

And  the  honey  flower,  the  marjoram  mode; 

The  lion's  skin,  true  pehcan  mode, 

The  bright  glittering  thread  mode. 

"Dreadful,  dreadful,"  cried  poor  Walther.  "What  an 
endless  medley  of  tones!" 

"Oh,  those  are  only  the  titles;  after  that  comes  the 
singing  —  and  it  has  to  be  according  to  rules,  remember." 


The  Mastersingers  of  Nuremberg  405 

Walther  groaned.  David  at  once  outlined  some  of  the 
rules;  they  appeared  quite  hopeless. 

"Why  no  one  in  the  world  could  meet  such  demands, 
it  is  ridiculous." 

"You  had  better  not  say  so,"  David  answered,  sig- 
nificantly. "I  want  you  to  know  that  the  great  Master- 
singers  of  Nuremberg  run  this  thing;  and  it  doesn't  make 
any  difference  to  anybody  but  you  and  Herr  Pogner's 
daughter  whether  you  approve  or  not.'^  At  the  men- 
tion of  Eva,  Walther  tried  to  control  his  feelings;  he  must 
try  at  least,  the  Lord  help  him  —  to  come  out  some- 
where in  the  midst  of  all  that  shoemaker's  music  of 
"modes"  and  "thread"  and  "buttons"  and  what-not! 

By  this  time  the  apprentices  had  erected  a  small  stage 
with  a  chair  and  a  desk  upon  it  and  a  blackboard  behind, 
with  a  piece  of  chalk  hanging  from  a  long  string  upon  the 
board,  and  all  about  that  funny  arrangement  were  black 
curtains  which  could  be  drawn  close. 

"The  Marker  will  let  seven  faults  slip  by,"  David 
explained  to  the  knight;  but  if  he  finds  more  than  seven 
it  is  all  over  for  the  candidate. 

So  God  save  you  from  disaster, 
May  you,  to-day,  be  a  master, 

he  wound  up  poetically. 

Having  finished  their  preparations,  the  apprentices 
began  to  dance  about  in  a  ring.  In  the  midst  of  the  jollity 
in  came  Pogner  from  the  sacristy;  also,  Beckmesser, 
who  was  the  town  clerk  and  a  singer  who  believed  in 
himself. 

David  took  his  place  at  the  sacristy  door,  to  let  in  the 
other  Mastersingers,  and  the  other  apprentices  stood 
waiting  before  the  bench  at  back.     Walther,  sick  to  death 


4o6  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

through  being  teased  by  the  apprentices,  had  sat  him- 
self down  on  the  very  front  seat,  and  there,  before  all, 
was  the  dreaded  Marker's  seat.  There  was  the  great 
"singing  chair"  —  where  the  candidate  was  to  sit  while 
under  trial.  Pogner  stood  talking  with  the  town  clerk, 
Beckmesser. 

"Herr  Pogner,"  the  latter  was  saying,"  I  know  what 
this  prize  is  to  be,  and  I  love  your  daughter  with  all  my 
soul."  Beckmesser,  who  was  a  rather  old  and  absurd 
chap,  made  a  sentimental  and  dramatic  gesture.  "I 
want  to  beg  of  you  if  there  is  any  preference  shown,  that 
it  be  shown  to  me." 

"I  cannot  say  there  will  be  any  favours  shown,  Beck- 
messer, but  my  plan  should  serve  you  well.  Eva  is  to 
go  to  the  best  singer — in  case  of  course  that  she  loves  him. 
She  shall  not  be  forced;  and  who  sings  so  well  as  you?" 

"Yet,  in  certain  respects,  I  am  weak,"  Beckmesser 
murmured.  "I  should  like  those  weak  points  to  be  passed 
over."  He  was  a  foxy  old  fellow,  far  too  old  for  the  lovely 
Eva,  and  he  was  quite  willing  to  take  an  unfair  advan- 
tage of  his  brother  singers. 

Walther  then  jumped  from  his  chair  and  went  to  Pogner. 

"Herr  Pogner,  may  I  have  speech  with  you?"  he  asked. 

"What,  Sir  Walther  seeks  me  in  singing  school?" 

"Yet  it  is  a  fitting  place,  because,  to  tell  the  truth, 
Herr  Pogner,  I  came  to  Nuremberg  town,  solely  for  the 
love  of  art,"  he  said  promptly,  hoping  he  would  be  for- 
given for  the  lie.  "I  failed  to  mention  this  yesterday, 
but  to-day  it  seems  fitting  to  tell  you  because  I  wish  to 
enter  the  competition.  In  short,  I  wish  to  become  a 
Mastersinger."  Walther  was  fairly  amazed  at  his  own 
bravado.  At  the  same  moment,  Kunz  Vogelgesang  and 
Konrad  Nachtigal  entered. 


The  Mastersingers  of  Nuremberg  407 

"Vogelgesang,  Nachtigal,  listen  to  this:  here  is  a  noble 
knight,  Walther  of  Stolzing,  well  known  to  me,  who 
wishes  to  join  our  singing.  This  is  very  fine.  I  am  sure 
we  all  welcome  you  to  our  guild.  Sir  Walther,"  he  cried 
heartily.  Beckmesser,  who  had  observed  the  handsome 
Walther,  became  uneasy. 

"If  anything  should  go  wrong  with  my  singing,"  he 
thought,  "I  should  stand  small  chance  any  other  way 
with  this  whipper-snapper.  I'll  go  to-night  beneath 
Eva's  \\'indow  and  sing  a  serenade  which  will  surely  win 
her  heart.  I'll  not  lose  her  even  if  this  great  knight  should 
prove  to  be  a  great  singer."  Every  time  he  thought  of 
Walther,  it  was  with  a  sneer.  On  the  whole,  Beckmesser 
was  a  nasty  little  man,  even  though  he  was  quite  a  singer. 
He  was  old  and  ugly  and  it  was  quite  ridiculous  of  him 
to  think  of  marrying  Eva. 

Walther,  still  speaking  with  Pogner,  confessed: 

"My  strongest  reason  for  entering  tliis  competition  is 
love  for  your  dear  daughter.  I  know  well  that  she  is  to 
be  the  prize."  Pogner  was  well  pleased,  for  he  liked  the 
knight. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  this.  Sir  Knight;  but  the 
matter  has  to  be  settled  —  after  the  promise  I  have 
given  —  according  to  certain  regulations  set  down  by 
the  Mastersingers;  but  I  shall  try  to  give  you  the  best  of 
chances."  Pogner  said  this  heartily,  for  he  would  like  to 
have  that  fine  fellow  for  a  son-in-law.  Meanwhile,  all  the 
Mastersingers  had  arrived  by  way  of  the  sacristy  door, 
and  Hans  Sachs  the  very  last.  Kothner  took  from  his 
pocket  the  list  of  names  of  those  who  were  to  sing,  and 
standing  apart,  he  began  to  call  the  roll.  Each  responded 
to  his  name,  and  then  Pogner  formally  announced 
what  the   prize  was   to  be.     Each  man  cried  that  he 


4o8  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

would  be  the  one  to  win  the  prize  —  since  it  was  such 
a  prize. 

"But  remember,"  Pogner  interrupted  their  enthusiasm, 
"although  I  am  determined  she  shall  marry  none  but 
him  who  wins  the  prize,  if  she  should  not  love  that  singer, 
she  shall  not  be  forced,  but  shall  remain  single  all  the 
rest  of  her  life";  and  with  that  they  had  to  be  content. 

"Let  me  make  still  a  suggestion,  Herr  Pogner," 
Hans  Sachs,  the  shoemaker  spoke  up.  He  loved  Eva  with 
all  his  heart,  but  he  was  good  and  true  and  fair.  He  knew 
that  he  was  growing  old,  and  that  he  sang  so  finely  that 
it  was  not  fair  he  should  enter  into  such  a  competition. 
If  he  sang  for  the  prize,  the  contest  would  be  won  before 
it  was  begun.  "Let  me  suggest  that  all  the  people  of 
Nuremberg  shall  have  a  hand  in  choosing  the  best  singer. 
To-morrow  at  the  fete,  let  all  the  people  hear  the  singers, 
and  let  theirs  be  the  choice." 

"Ho,  ho!  Then  farewell,  art,"  the  Mastersingers 
cried,  indignantly.  "That  is  a  fine  joke,  indeed,  Sachs. 
Pray  what  do  the  people  know  about  art?  What  do 
they  know  of  the  singing  master's  rules?     Bah!" 

"Listen!"  Sachs  said,  impressively.  "That  which 
the  people  approve,  is  good;  they  know  naught  of  rule, 
but  they  know  what  beauty  of  song  and  theme  is  better 
that  we.  Leave  it  to  the  people's  choice  and  you  shall 
not  rue  it.  Besides,  a  maiden's  heart  is  to  be  disposed 
of,  and  those  who  are  judges  among  us  are  not  without 
selfish  feelings.  Let  the  people  decide  and  leave  the 
maiden  free." 

"Oh,  I  suppose  you  are  thinking  and  speaking  for  your- 
self—  a  widower,"  Beckmesser  cried,  trying  to  belittle 
the  shoemaker. 

"So  little  is  that  so,  my  friends,  that  I  shall  not  sing," 


The  Mastersingers  of  Nuremberg  409 

Every  one  loved  Hans  Sachs  and  now  recognized  his  gene- 
rosity. "I  am  too  old  for  such  as  she."  Thereupon 
Beckmesser  became  furious,  because  he  was  older  than 
Hans,  yet  he  considered  himself  quite  young  enough  to 
marry  her. 

"Well,  my  friends,  there  is  one  more  piece  of  business: 
this  young  knight,"  leading  forth  Walther,  "wishes  to 
enter  the  race,  and  I  present  him  with  right  good  will." 
This  was  almost  too  much  for  the  beset  Beckmesser.  He 
fairly  foamed  at  the  mouth. 

"Now,  I  understand  this  matter,"  he  muttered  aside. 
"Pcgner  would  have  it  seem  that  he  treated  us  fairly  in 
this  matter,  while  in  reality  he  had  this  handsome  fellow 
up  his  sleeve.  A  knight  at  that,  and  if  he  can  sing  it 
certainly  is  all  up  with  the  rest  of  us."  He  loudly  declared 
it  was  far  too  late  for  Walther  to  be  let  into  the  competi- 
tion; but  there  were  several  opinions  about  that,  and  a 
good  deal  of  wrangling.  All  were  somewhat  afraid  of 
Walther,  not  knowing  that  he  had  no  confidence  in  his 
own  singing  or  making  of  verses.  At  last  it  was  decided 
that  he  should  have  a  trial  that  morning. 

"But  thou  must  say  who  has  been  thy  master,"  they 
insisted;  whereupon  Walther  named  a  great  master.  Sir 
Walther  of  the  \'ogelweid. 

"In  truth,"  Hans  Sachs  said,  nodding  kindly.  "He 
is  a  great  master."  Hans  meant  to  stand  by  the  knight 
and  to  serve  him  if  possiI)!e,  because  he  seemed  the  best 
choice  for  Eva,  whom  Sachs  loved  above  everything. 
W^alther  added  that,  for  the  most  part,  he  had  learned  his 
songs  from  the  birds,  titmouses,  and  finches,  and  the  like. 
He  loved  the  woods  and  streams,  and  a  joyous  heart  made 
him  sing  in  spite  of  himself,  and  the  song  of  birds  was 
the  one  he  loved  best  to  imitate.     The  others  were  in- 


4IO  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

dined  to  jeer  at  these  words,  but  Hans  Sachs  saw  in  them 
a  beautiful  nature,  fine  poesy. 

"Very  well,  very  well,  let  him  begin,"  all  cried,  and  so 
the  knight  took  his  place  in  the  singer's  chair  while  Beck- 
messer,  who  was  appointed  Marker,  went  to  his  place. 

"As  Marker,  I  guess  I  can  settle  his  affair  for  him," 
Beckmesser  muttered,  in  malice.  All  the  while  Walther, 
was  in  despair,  having  no  confidence  in  himself. 

"It  is  for  thee,  beloved,"  he  murmured,  trying  to  gain 
courage  by  putting  his  thoughts  upon  Eva.  Then 
Beckmesser,  hidden  behind  the  curtain,  cried: 

"Now  begin." 

Walther  hesitated  a  moment,  then  began,  uncertainly, 
to  sing.  It  was  a  beautiful  song  of  the  spring.  At  the 
end  of  the  first  part,  Beckmesser  scratched  horribly  upon 
his  slate,  and  sighed  in  a  most  disconcerting  manner. 
Walther  listened  and  his  heart  nearly  failed  him,  but  he 
began  again.  This  time  he  sang  of  winter,  and  as  he 
went  on  he  became  so  much  inspired  that  he  forgot  his 
tremendous  anxiety,  rose  from  his  chair,  and  sang  passion- 
ately, with  abandon.  When  he  came  to  a  pause  in  the 
theme,  Beckmesser  burst  into  the  group  with  his  slate. 
It  was  all  covered  with  chalk  marks. 

"Will  you  never  have  done,"  he  shouted  angrily.  "I've 
no  more  room  in  which  to  set  marks  against  you.  If  we 
must  go  on  listening  to  such  singing  we  must  use  the  side 
of  the  church  if  we  would  have  room  to  set  down  your 
mistakes."    Every  one  but  Hans  Sachs  burst  out  laughing. 

"  But  I  have  not  finished,"  Walther  pleaded.  "Will  none 
of  you  let  me  finish  my  song,  good  friends?    It  is  not  fair." 

"That  is  true,  that  is  true,  not  too  much  zeal,  Beck- 
messer," Hans  tried  to  interpose.  Everybody  was  talk- 
ing at  once. 


The  Master  singers  of  Nuremberg  411 

"I  could  not  understand  one  word  of  his  meaning," 
one  cried. 

"There  was  false  time,  false  everything;  it  was  ridicu- 
lous!"    another  shouted. 

"The  most  absurd  thing  I  ever  heard,"  another  called. 
In  short,  every  one  shouted  and  mocked  and  offered 
suggestions,  except  Hans  Sachs  who  had  stood  apart, 
and  after  the  first  notes  of  Walther,  had  listened  with 
great  earnestness.  In  the  midst  of  the  excitement  he 
came  forward. 

"Master  Beckmcsscr,  you  have  gone  too  far.  We  do 
not  all  agree  with  your  opinion.  The  song  which  you 
despise,  I  find  both  beautiful,  new,  and  free  from  fault.  It 
is  not  such  as  we  sing,  but  it  is  true  and  fine.  I  fear  you 
have  forgotten  your  own  rules." 

"Xever,  never  I"  the  Marker  shouted. 

"  Xow,  friends,  hear  my  final  word.  This  young  knight 
shall  be  heard  to  the  end."  With  a  decisive  gesture 
he  motioned  Walther  to  the  chair  again.  All  shouted 
"Xo,  no!"  but  Sachs  insisted  and  amidst  the  riot  and 
hullabaloo  Walther  again  began  his  song.  His  clear, 
beautiful  voice  was  heard  above  the  noise,  but  every  one 
was  engaged  in  telling  what  they  thought  about  it.  Only 
Sachs  stood  determined,  trying  to  quiet  the  frightful 
uproar.  Beckmcsscr  was  making  a  terrible  to-do,  and 
the  apprentices  were  shouting  with  laughter,  following 
the  lead  of  their  masters.  After  a  little,  Walther  became 
so  confused  that  at  last  he  could  sing  no  longer. 

The  a])j.»renticc3  began  to  dance  wildly  about  their 
masters,  and  in  the  midst  of  tlie  extraordinary  scene,  the 
knight  descended  from  llic  chair,  and  turned  away  with 
a  contemptuous  glance.  He  was  ai^out  to  go,  as  the 
Mastersingers  were  struggling  toward  th(;  door;    but  to 


412  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

add  to  the  confusion  the  apprentices  who  had  torn  up  the 
benches  began  marching  about  with  them.  While  Walther, 
the  Mastersingers,  and  the  apprentices  were  struggling 
out,  Sachs  stood  looking  at  the  singer's  chair,  where 
Walther  had  lately  sat,  singing  so  beautifully  that 
none  but  the  splendid  Sachs,  with  his  good  soul  and 
his  poetic  nature,  had  been  able  to  understand  how  great 
it  was. 

ACT  II 

Night  of  the  same  day  came  on,  and  David  and  other 
apprentices  were  putting  up  the  shutters  of  their  masters' 
houses,  before  it  became  too  late.  Hans  Sachs's  house  — 
which  was  also  his  workshop  —  stood  in  a  corner  made 
by  a  little  crooked  path  which  crossed  a  Nuremberg 
street;  while  Pogner's  house,  much  finer  —  altogether 
quite  grand  —  stood  opposite.  Beside  Hans's  house 
grew  an  elder  tree,  and  beside  Pogner's,  a  lime.  Magda- 
lene, very  anxious  to  know  from  David  what  had  taken 
place  in  the  church,  had  gone  from  her  master's  house 
with  a  little  basket  of  the  good  things  which  David  liked. 
This  gave  her  a  good  excuse  to  seek  him. 

"What  happened  to  the  handsome  knight?"  she  in- 
quired, standing  on  Hans's  side  of  the  way,  and  speaking 
with  David. 

"Why  what  should  happen?  He  was  rejected,  of 
course,"  David  answered  sulkily,  while  all  the  other 
apprentice  boys  laughed  at  him  because  Magdalene,  his 
sweetheart,  was  trying  to  pump  him. 

"Ho,  ho!  Then  you  get  nothing  out  of  my  basket," 
she  answered,  walking  off.  Again  the  boys  mocked  him, 
and  he  grew  very  angry,  telling  them  to  be  off  about  their 
business.     The  quarrel  grew  so  loud  that  finally  Sachs, 


The  Master  singers  of  Nuremberg  413 

coming  home  unexpectedly,  burst  into  the  midst  of  them 
and  scattered  them. 

"What  is  all  this?"  he  cried. 

"The  rascals  are  plaguing  me,  master,"  David  growled. 

"Well,  get  thee  within  and  light  the  lamp;  lock  up  and 
bring  the  lamp  here  to  me;  after  that,  put  the  shoes  on 
the  lasts  and  go";  and  as  David  went  into  the  workshop 
to  obey,  Sachs  followed.  At  that  moment,  Eva  and  her 
father  passed  along  the  path,  and  seeing  the  light  in  Sachs's 
house,  Pogner  peeped  through  the  chink  of  the  door. 

"If  Sachs  is  there  I  shall  stop  in  and  speak  with  him," 
he  said  to  Eva.  David  just  then  came  from  the  house 
with  a  lamp  which  he  placed  upon  the  work-bench,  and 
seating  himself  began  work  upon  a  pair  of  shoes. 

"To-morrow  will  be  a  fine  day  for  the  festival,"  Pog- 
ner said  to  his  daughter,  as  they  seated  themselves  upon 
a  stone  bench,  on  their  own  side  of  the  path. 

"But,  father,  must  I  certainly  marry  the  best  singer?" 
Eva  asked  anxiously. 

"Not  unless  he  pleases  thee;  but  in  case  he  does 
not,  Eva,  I  have  decided  that  thou  shalt  marry  no  other." 
He  was  interrupted  by  ^Magdalene  who  came  to  bid  them 
to  supper.  Eva  lingered  behind  to  get  a  private  word 
with  her. 

"What  about  the  knight?  Did  he  succeed?"  she 
asked  so  anxiously  that  it  broke  Magdalene's  heart  to 
tell  her  the  truth. 

"David  said  not  —  but  he  would  not  tell  what  had 
happened." 

"Maybe  I  can  learn  from  Plans  Sachs;  he  loves  me 
very  much,  and  may  feel  some  distress  over  my  trouble. 
I  shall  ask  him."  Just  then  Sachs  came  to  the  door  of 
his  house. 


414  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Come,  boy,"  he  said  to  David,  "put  up  thy  work 
for  the  night,  and  get  thee  to  bed;  to-morrow  will  be  a 
busy  day.  Put  my  stool  and  table  outside  the  door  that 
I  may  finish  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  then  get  thee  to  bed." 
David  gathered  up  his  took,  and  after  arranging  Sachs's 
work  bade  him  good  night.  Sachs  sat  down,  with  his 
hands  behind  his  head,  and  instead  of  going  at  once  to 
work,  began  to  think  upon  the  day's  happenings  —  and 
other  things,  maybe.  He  leaned  his  arms  upon  the  lower 
half  of  the  door  and  sometimes  spoke  his  thoughts  aloud: 

"Truly  the  young  knight  is  a  poet,"  he  mused.  Hans 
himself  was  a  true  poet,  tender  and  loving,  and  he  could 
think  of  nothing  but  Eva's  good.  Becoming  nervous 
and  apprehensive  while  thinking  of  her  he  began  to 
hammer  at  a  shoe,  but  again  he  ceased  to  work  and  tried 
to  think.  "I  still  hear  that  strain  of  the  young  knight's" 
and  he  tried  to  recall  some  part  of  the  song.  While  he 
mused  thus  alone,  Eva  stole  shyly  over  to  the  shop.  It 
had  now  become  quite  dark  and  the  neighbours  were 
going  to  bed. 

"Good  evening,  Master  Sachs!  You  are  still  at  work?" 
she  asked  softly.     Hans  started. 

"Yes,  my  child,  my  dear  Evchen.  I  am  still  at  work. 
Why  are  you  still  awake?  Ah,  I  know  —  it  is  about 
your  fine  new  shoes  that  you  have  come,  those  for 
to-morrow!" 

"Nay,  they  look  so  rich  and  fine,  I  have  not  even  tried 
them  on." 

"Yet  to-morrow  you  must  wear  them  as  a  bride,  you 
know." 

"Whose  shoes  are  these  that  you  work  upon,  Master 
Sachs,"  she  asked,  wishing  to  change  the  subject. 

"These  are  the  shoes  of  the  great  Master  Beckmesser," 


The  Master  singers  of  Nuremberg  415 

Sachs  answered,  smiling  a  little  at  the  thought  of  the 
bumptious  old  fellow. 

"In  heaven's  name  put  plenty  of  pitch  in  them,  that 
he  may  stick,  and  not  be  able  to  come  after  me,"  she 
cried. 

''What  —  you  do  not  favour  Beckmesser,  then?" 

"That  silly  old  man,"  she  said  scornfully. 

"Well,  there  is  a  very  scanty  batch  of  bachelors  to 
sue  for  thee,  or  sing  for  thee,"  Hans  answered,  looking 
lovingly  at  her,  with  a  little  smile. 

"Well,  there  are  some  widowers,"  Eva  said  returning 
his  friendly  look.     Hans  laughed  outright. 

"Ah,  dear  Evchen,  it  is  not  for  an  old  chap  like  me  to 
snare  a  young  bird  like  thee.  At  the  trial  to-day,  tilings 
did  not  go  well,"  he  ventured,  trying  to  turn  the  conversa- 
tion. 

Instantly  Eva  was  all  attention,  and  she  got  from 
him  the  story  of  Walther's  failure  and  unfair  treatment, 
just  as  Magdalene  called  from  the  house  over  the  way. 

"St  —  st,"  she  whispered.  "Thy  father  has  called  for 
thee." 

"I'll  come  presently,"  Eva  answered.  Then  to  Hans: 
"But  tell  me,  dear  Hans,  was  there  not  one  who  was  his 
friend?     Is  there  no  hope?" 

"No  master  has  hope  among  other  masters,"  Hans 
replied,  sorrowfully.  "I  fear  there  is  nothing  for  him 
but  to  give  thee  up."  Hans  knew  well  that  Eva  loved 
the  knight. 

"What  man  has  a  friend,  whose  own  greatness  makes 
other  men  feel  small?"  he  asked  still  more  sadly.  "It 
is  the  way  with  men." 

"It  is  shameful,"  she  cried  angrily,  and  hurried  across 
the  street.     Hans  closed  the  upper  half  of  liis  door,  so 


4i6  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

that  he  was  almost  shut  in,  and  only  a  little  light  showed 
through. 

"Eva,"  Magdalene  called  at  the  house  door,  "that 
Beckmesser  has  been  here  to  say  he  is  coming  to  serenade 
you,  and  to  win  your  love.  Did  ever  one  hear  of  such 
a  ridiculous  rascal." 

"I  will  not  hear  him,"  Eva  declared  angrily.  "I  will 
not.  I  am  going  to  see  Walther  to-night,  and  I  will  not 
see  Beckmesser.  Look  out  and  see  if  any  one  is  coming." 
Walther  was  at  that  moment  coming  round  the  corner 
of  the  path,  and  Eva  rushed  toward  him. 

"You  have  heard  —  that  I  may  not  sing  to  win  thee?" 
he  said  imder  his  breath,  for  fear  Pogner  should  hear 
him.  At  that  moment  the  horn  of  the  Night  Warder 
was  heard,  which  assured  them  that  the  town  was  all 
quiet  and  people  gone  to  bed. 

"It  does  not  matter,  I  have  made  up  my  mind.  I  will 
never  give  the  victor's  crown  to  any  one  but  thee,  and  so 
we  shall  flee  together  —  this  night,  at  once,  before  it  is 
too  late."  Walther,  beside  himself  with  joy,  looked  after 
her  while  she  hurried  into  the  house  to  get  ready  for 
flight.     The  Night  Warder  came  round  the  house  corner. 

Hear  all  folk,  the  Warder's  ditty, 
'Tis  ten  o'clock  in  our  city; 
Heed  well  your  fire  and  eke  your  light, 
That  none  may  be  harmed  this  night! 
Praise  ye  God,  the  Lord! 

He  blew  a  long  loud  blast  upon  his  trumpet. 

Hans  Sachs  had  heard  the  plan  concocted  between  the 
lovers,  from  behind  his  nearly  closed  door;  so  he  put  out 
the  lamp,  that  he  might  not  be  seen,  and  opened  his  door 
a  little  way.  He  could  never  permit  them  to  elope;  it 
would  cause  no  end  of  trouble.    After  a  moment    Eva 


The  Mastersingers  of  Nuremberg  417 

and  Magdalene  came  from  Pogner's  house  with  a  bundle, 
while  at  the  same  moment  Walther  came  from  the  shadow 
of  the  lime  tree  to  meet  them.  They  were  hurrying  oflF 
together  when  the  clever  shoemaker  caught  up  his  lamp 
from  its  place  of  concealment  and  turned  it  full  upon 
the  alley-way,  so  that  it  shone  directly  upon  the  path 
of  the  lovers. 

Eva  and  Walther  found  themselves  standing  together 
in  a  bright  light,  when  they  had  thought  to  escape  un- 
seen in  the  darkness.  Again  the  Warder's  horn  was 
heard  at  a  distance. 

"Oh,  good  gracious!  We  shall  be  caught,"  Eva  whis- 
pered, frightened  half  to  death,  as  Walther  drew  her  out 
of  the  streaming  light. 

"Which  way  shall  we  go?"  he    whispered,    uneasily. 

"Alas!  look  there  —  at  that  old  rascal,  Beckmesser," 
she  returned,  distracted  with  fright  and  anger,  as  she 
saw  the  old  fool  come  in  sight  with  his  lute  strung  over 
his   shoulder,  while  he  twanged  it  lightly. 

The  moment  Hans  saw  Beckmesser  he  had  a  new 
thought.  He  withdrew  the  light  a  little  and  opened  the 
door.  Then  in  the  half  light  he  placed  his  bench  in  the 
doorway  and  began  to  work  upon  a  pair  of  shoes. 

"It  is  that  horrible  Marker  who  counted  me  out  this 
morning,"  Walther  murmured,  looking  at  Beckmesser 
as  he  stole  along  the  pathway.  Then  almost  at  once, 
Beckmesser  began  to  bawl  under  Eva's  window. 

He  looked  up  where  he  supposed  her  to  be,  in  the  most 
languishing  manner,  so  that  Walther  and  Eva  would 
have  laughed  outright,  if  they  had  not  been  in  such  a  coil. 

He  no  sooner  had  struck  the  first  notes,  than  Hans 
Sachs  gave  a  bang  upon  his  shoe-last.  Thus  began  an 
awful    scrimmage.     Hans    Sachs,    disliking    the    absurd 


4i8  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

old  Beckmesser  as  much,  if  not  more,  than  others  did, 
banged  away  at  Beckmesser 's  shoes,  in  a  most  energetic 
way.  He  made  such  a  frightful  din  that  Beckmesser 
could  hardly  hear  himself  sing. 

The  town  cierk  tried  by  every  device  to  stop  the 
shoemaker,  —  to  get  him  to  put  aside  his  cobbling  for 
the  night,  but  Hans  answered  that  he  had  to  work  lively 
if  he  hoped  to  get  the  shoes  done  for  the  fete.  Beck- 
messer did  not  dare  tell  why  he  was  there,  singing  at  that 
hour.  Walther  and  Eva  remained  prisoners  under  the 
lime  tree,  wondering  what  on  earth  to  do.  After  a 
while,  poor  Beckmesser,  making  the  most  frantic 
efforts  to  hear  his  own  voice,  pleaded  with  Hans 
to  stop. 

"I'll  tell  thee  what  to  do  —  it  will  make  the  time  pass 
pleasantly  for  me  as  well,  you  see,"  Hans  cried.  "Do 
thou  go  ahead  and  sing,  and  I'll  be  Marker.  For  every 
mistake  of  thine,  I'll  hammer  the  shoe.  Of  course  there 
will  be  so  few  mistakes  that  there  will  then  be  but  little 
pounding."  Beckmesser  caught  at  that  suggestion.  Of 
course  it  was  imprudent,  but  then  Beckmesser  was  in  a 
bad  way,  and  it  was  his  only  chance.  So  he  began  his 
serenade  once  more.  Then  Hans  began  to  "mark"  him. 
Before  he  had  sung  a  line,  Hans's  hammer  was  banging 
away  in  the  most  remarkable  manner.  Even  Walther 
and  Eva  had  to  laugh,  frightened  as  they  were.  Beck- 
messer became  so  furious  he  could  hardly  speak.  Sachs 
pretended  to  see  nothing,  and  "marked"  away  valiantly. 
Then  the  Night  Watch  could  be  heard  coming.  Hans 
banged  louder.  Beckmesser  put  his  fingers  in  his  ears, 
that  he  might  drown  the  sound  of  Hans  and  the  Warder, 
and  keep  on  the  key.  Hans  too  began  to  sing  as  he 
waxed  his  threads  and  banged  upon  his  shoes.     Mean- 


The  Master  singers  of  Nuremberg  419 

time  windows  were  going  up,  the  people  who  had  gone  to 
bed  ha\'ing  wakened. 

"Stop  your  bawling  there,"  one  shouted. 

"Leave  off  howling,"  another  screamed. 

"What's  the  matter?  Have  you  gone  crazy  do'^vn 
there,"  others  yelled,  but  Beckmesser  still  shrieked, 
unable  to  hear  anybody  but  himself  and  Hans. 

"Listen  to  that  donkey  bray,"  a  neighbour  called. 

"Hear  the  wild-cat,"  another  bawled;  and  in  the  midst 
of  the  singing  Magdalene  stuck  her  head  out  of  the  win- 
dow. Beckmesser,  thinking  it  was  Eva,  was  encouraged 
to  keep  on,  but  David,  who  had  come  out  at  the  rumpus, 
believed  that  Beckmesser  was  serenading  Magdalene, 
and  instantly  became  jealous.  So  out  he  rushed  with 
a  cudgel.  The  neighbours  then  began  to  come  from 
their  houses  in  their  night-gowns  and  caps;  some  wearing 
red  flannel  about  their  heads  and  some  in  very  short 
gowns,  and  all  looking  very  funny.  Meanwhile,  Hans, 
who  had  got  the  row  started,  withdrew  into  his  house 
and  shut  the  door.  Walther  and  Eva  were  still  trem- 
bling under  the  lime  tree,  sure  of  being  discovered,  now 
that  all  Nuremberg  was  aroused  and  on  the  spot. 

Beckmesser  was  surrounded  by  the  neighbours,  the 
apprentices  came  from  every  shop  to  swell  the  crowd, 
also  the  journeymen,  while  all  the  women  bawled  from 
the  house  windows  where  they  were  hanging  out  half 
way.  David  and  Beckmesser  were  wrestling  all  over 
the  place,  Beckmcsser's  lute  being  smashed  and  hus 
clothes  torn  off  him.  At  last  the  Mastersingers  them- 
selves arrived. 

Walther,  at  last  deciding  that  the  time  had  come  v/hen 
he  must  rescue  Eva,  drew  his  sword  and  rushed  forth. 
Hans,  who  had  been  watching  behind  his  door,  then  ran 


420  operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

out,  pushed  his  way  through  the  mob  and  caught  Walther 
by  the  arm.  At  that  moment  —  Poof!  Bist!  the  women 
in  the  windows  threw  down  buckets  of  water  over  all 
the  people,  and  Beckmesser  was  half  drowned  in  the 
streams.  This  added  to  the  confusion,  so  that  Hans 
grasped  Walther,  and  Pogner  his  daughter;  Sachs  and 
Walther  retired  into  Sachs's  house  and  Eva  was  dragged 
within  her  own.  As  Sachs  disappeared,  he  gave  David 
a  kick  which  sent  him  flying,  to  pay  him  for  his  part  in 
the  fight. 

Beckmesser,  battered  half  to  pieces,  limped  off,  while 
the  crowd,  dripping  wet  and  with  ardour  cooled,  slunk 
out.  When  all  was  perfectly  quiet  and  safe,  and  not  a 
sound  stirring,  on  came  the  Night  Warder.  It  was  comi- 
cal to  see  the  way  he  looked  all  about  the  deserted  place, 
as  if  he  had  been  taking  a  little  nap,  while  all  Nuremberg 
had  been  fighting  like  wild-cats,  and  he  quavered  out  in 
a  shaky  voice; 

Hear,  all  folks,  the  Warder's  ditty, 
Eleven  strikes  in  our  city. 
Defend  yourselves  from  spectre  and  sprite, 
That  no  evil  imp  your  soul  affright. 

He  finished  with  a  long-drawn  cry: 
Praise  ye  God,  the  Lord, 

and  all  was  still. 

ACT    III 

The  morning  of  the  song  festival  dawned  clear  and 
fine.  Early  in  the  morning,  Hans  Sachs  seated  himself 
in  his  shop,  beside  his  sunny  window,  his  work  on  the 
bench  before  him,  but  he  let  it  go  unheeded  as  he  fell 


The  Master  singers  of  Nuremberg  421 

to  reading,  David  found  his  master  thus  employed  when 
he  stole  into  the  shop,  after  peeping  to  make  sure  that 
Hans  would  pay  no  attention  to  him.  David  was  not 
at  all  sure  of  the  reception  his  master  would  give  him 
after  the  riot  in  which  he  had  taken  a  hand  the  night 
before.  As  Hans  did  not  look  up,  David  set  the  basket 
he  carried  upon  the  table,  and  began  to  take  out  the 
things  in  it.  First  there  were  flowers  and  bright-coloured 
ribbons,  and  at  the  very  bottom  a  cake  and  a  sausage. 
He  was  just  beginning  to  eat  the  sausage  when  Hans 
Sachs  turned  a  page  of  his  book  noisily.  David,  know- 
ing his  guilty  part  in  the  fight,  looked  warily  at  his 
master. 

"Master,  I  have  taken  the  shoes  to  Beckmesser  and 
"     Sachs  looked  at  him  abstractedly. 

"Do  not  disturb  our  guest,  Sir  Walther,"  he  said, 
seeming  to  forget  David's  misbehaviour.  "Eat 
thy  cakes  and  be  happy  —  only  do  not  wake  our 
guest." 

Soon  David  went  out  while  Sachs  still  sat  think- 
ing of  the  situation  and  half  decided  to  take  a  part 
in  the  contest  himself  —  since  it  were  a  shame  to 
have  Beckmesser  win  Eva.  While  he  was  thus  lost 
in  contemplation,  Walther  woke  and  came  from  his 
room. 

"Ah,  dear  Hans  —  I  have  had  a  glorious  dream,"  he 
cried.  "It  is  so  splendid  that  I  hardly  dare  think 
of  it." 

"Can  it  be  thou  hast  dreamed  a  song?"  Sachs  asked 
breathlessly. 

"Even  if  I  had,  what  help  would  it  bring  me, 
friend  Sachs,  since  the  Mastersingers  will  not  treat  me 
fairly?" 


422 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


"Stay,  stay,  Walther,  not  so  fast!  I  want  to  say  of 
yesterday's  experience:  the  Mastersingers  are,  after  all, 
men  of  honour.  They  were  hard  on  thee  yesterday,  but 
thou  hast  troubled  them  much.  Thy  song  was  as  strange, 
its  kind  as  new  to  them  as  it  was  beautiful,  and  they  have 
thought  of  it  again  and  again  since  then.  If  they  can 
make  themselves  familiar  with  such  beauty  they  will  not 
fail  to  give  thee  credit.  I  own  I  am  much  troubled  and 
know  not  what  to  do  for  you." 

"I  wonder  could  it  be  possible  that  I  have  had  an  in- 
spiration in  my  sleep  that  might  lead  me  to  win  my  dear 
Eva?"  the  knight  said,  taking  heart. 

"That  we  shall  soon  know.  Sir  Walther,  stand  thou 
there,  and  sing  thy  song,  and  I  will  sit  here  and  write  it 
down.  So  it  shall  not  escape  thee.  Come,  begin.  Sir 
Knight,"  Sachs  cried,  becoming  hopeful  for  the  young 
man.  Trembling  with  anxiety  Walther  took  his  stand 
and  began  his  song,  while  Hans  placed  himself  at  the 
table  to  write  it  down. 


P 


s 


E^3: 


Bathed    in 


the 


-Ught 


at 


i 


dawn 


of         the      day, 


when    blos-soms 


rare        made  sweet     the      air. 


with      beau-ties 


The  Master  singers  of  Nuremberg  423 


past    all  dream-ing,      a 


glorious       gar den         lay,      cheer-ing  my  way. 

As  the  knight  sang  he  became  more  and  more  inspired 
and  when  he  had  finished  Hans  Sachs  was  wild  with 
delight. 

"It  is  true!  —  you  have  had  a  wonderful  inspiration. 
Go  now  to  your  room,  and  there  you  will  find  clothing 
gay  enough  for  this  great  occasion.  No  matter  how  it 
came  there!  —  it  is  there!  I  have  all  along  believed  in 
you,  and  that  you  would  sing,  and  I  have  provided  for 
it."     The  knight  went  rejoicing  to  put  on  his  new  clothes. 

Now  Hans,  when  he  went  with  Walther  to  his  bedroom, 
had  left  the  manuscript  of  the  great  song  upon  the  table, 
and  no  sooner  had  he  gone  out  than  Beckmesser,  looking 
through  the  window  and  finding  the  place  empty,  slipped 
in.  He  was  limping  from  the  effects  of  the  fight  and 
altogether  cut  a  most  ridiculous  figure.  He  was  very 
richly  dressed,  but  that  did  not  conceal  his  battered 
appearance.  Every  step  he  took  he  rubbed  first  his 
back  and  then  his  shins.  He  should  have  been  in  bed 
and  covered  with  liniments.  Suddenly  he  espied  the 
song  upon  Hans's  table.  He  believed  that  after  all  Hans 
was  going  to  sing,  and  if  he  should,  all  would  be  up  with 
himself.  Wild  with  rage,  Beckmesser  picked  up  the 
song  and  stuffed  it  into  his  pocket.  No  sooner  had  he 
done  so  than  the  bedroom  door  opened,  and  Hans  Sachs 


424  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

came  out  in  gala  dress,  ready  for  the  festival;  seeing 
Beckmesser,  he  paused  in  surprise. 

"What,  you?  Sir  Marker?  Surely  those  shoes  of 
yours  do  not  give  you  trouble  so  soon?  " 

"Trouble!  The  devil!  Such  shoes  never  were.  They 
are  so  thin,  I  can  feel  the  smallest  cobblestone  through 
them.  No  matter  about  the  shoes,  however  —  though 
I  came  to  complain  to  you  about  them  —  for  I  have 
found  another  and  far  worse  cause  of  complaint.  I 
thought  you  were  not  to  sing." 

"Neither  am  I." 

"What,  you  deny  it  —  when  I  have  just  found  you 
out!"  Beckmesser  cried  in  a  foaming  rage.  Hans 
looked  at  the  table  and  saw  that  the  manuscript  was 
gone.     He  grinned. 

"So,  you  took  the  song,  did  you?"  he  asked. 

"The  ink  was  still  wet." 

"True,  I'll  be  bound!" 

"So  then  I've  caught  you  deceiving!" 

"Well,  at  least  you  never  caught  me  stealing,  and  to 
save  you  from  the  charge  I'll  just  give  you  that  song," 
Hans  replied,  still  smiling.  Beckmesser  stared  at 
him. 

"I'll  warrant  you  have  the  song  by  heart,"  he  said, 
narrowly  eyeing  the  shoemaker. 

"No,  that  I  haven't.  And  further  than  that,  I'll 
promise  you  not  to  lay  any  claim  to  it  that  shall  thwart 
your  use  of  it  —  if  you  really  want  it."  Hans  spoke 
carelessly,  watching  the  greedy  town  clerk  from  the  tail 
of  his  eye. 

"You  mean  truly,  that  I  may  use  that  song  as  I  like?" 

"Sing  it  if  you  like  —  and  know  how,"  Sachs  said 
obligingly. 


The  Mastersingers  of  Nuremberg  425 

"A  song  by  Hans  Sachs!"  he  exclaimed,  unable  to  hide 
his  joy  —  because  no  one  in  Nuremberg  could  possibly 
write  a  song  like  Sachs.  "Well,  well,  this  is  very  decent 
of  you,  Sachs!  I  can  understand  how  anxious  you  are 
to  make  friends  with  me,  after  your  bad  treatment  last 
night."  Beckmesser  spoke  patronizingly,  while  his  heart 
was  fairly  bursting  with  new  hope.  Any  song  by  Hans 
Sachs  would  certainly  win  him  the  prize,  even  if  he  could 
but  half  sing  it. 

"If  I  am  to  oblige  you  by  using  this  song,"  he  hesita- 
ted, "then  swear  to  me  you  will  not  undo  me  by  laying 
claim  to  it."  After  all,  he  was  feeling  considerable  anx- 
iety about  it.  That  he  should  be  saved  in  this  manner 
was  quite  miraculous. 

"I'll  give  my  oath  never  to  claim  it  so  long  as  I  live," 
Sachs  answered  earnestly,  thinking  all  the  while  what 
a  rascal  Beckmesser  was.  "But,  friend  Beckmesser, 
one  word;  I  am  no  scoffer,  but  truly,  knowing  the  song  as 
I  do,  I  have  my  doubts  about  your  being  able  to  learn  it 
in  an  hour  or  so.     The  song  is  not  easy." 

"Have, no  fear,  Hans  Sachs.  As  a  poet,  your  place  is 
first,  I  know;  but  believe  me,  friend,  when  it  comes  to 
'tone'  and  'mode,'  and  the  power  to  sing,  I  confess 
I  have  no  fear  —  nor  an  equal,"  the  conceited  ass  de- 
clared. "I  tell  you,  confidentially,  I  have  now  no  fear 
of  that  presumptuous  fellow,  Walther.  With  this  song 
and  my  great  genius,  we  shall  no  longer  fear  his  bobbing 
upon  the  scene  and  doing  harm."  Assured  of  success 
at  last,  away  went  Beckmesser,  limping  and  stumbling, 
to  learn  his  song. 

"Well,  never  did  I  see  so  malicious  a  fellow,"  Hans 
declared,  as  Beckmesser  stumbled  out  of  sight.  "And 
there  comes  Evchen  —  hello,  my  Evchen,  thou  art  dressed 


426  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

very  fine.  Well,  well,  it  is  to  be  thy  wedding  day,  to  be 
sure." 

"Yes  —  but  the  shoe  pinches,"  she  said  putting  her 
little  foot  upon  the  bench. 

"That  will  never  do.  That  must  be  fixed,"  Hans 
answered  gravely,  his  eyes  twinkling.  He  fell  to  examin- 
ing the  shoes.  "Why,  my  child,  what  is  wrong  with  it? 
I  find  it  a  very  fine  fit?" 

"Nay,  it  is  too  broad." 

"Tut,  tut,  that  is  thy  vanity.  The  shoe  fits  close,  my 
dear." 

"  Well,  then  I  think  it  is  the  toes  that  hurt  —  or  maybe 
the  heel,  or  maybe  —  "  she  looked  all  about,  hoping  to 
see  Walther.  At  that  moment  he  entered,  and  Eva  cried 
out.     Then  Hans  said: 

"tUi,  ah!  Ho,  ho!  That  is  where  the  shoe  pinches,  eh? 
Well,  be  patient,  that  fault  I  shall  mend  very  soon,"  he 
declared,  thinking  of  the  song  that  Beckmesser  had  stolen, 
while  he  took  off  the  shoe  and  sat  once  more  at  his  bench. 
Then  he  said  slyly: 

"Lately  I  heard  a  beauteous  song.  I  would  I  might 
hear  its  third  verse  once  more."  Immediately,  Walther, 
looking  at  Eva,  began  softly  to  sing  the  famous  song. 
As  it  magically  swelled,  Sachs  came  to  her  and  again 
fitted  the  shoes.  When  the  song  was  rapturously  finished, 
Eva  burst  into  hysterical  sobbing,  and  threw  herself  into 
the  shoemaker's  arms.  But  this  scene  was  interrupted 
by  the  coming  of  Lena  and  David,  all  dressed  for  the 
fete. 

"Come,  just  in  time!"  Sachs  cried.  "Now  listen  to 
what  I  have  to  say,  children.  In  this  room,  a  song  has 
just  been  made  by  this  knight,  who  duly  sang  it  before 
me  and  before  Eva.     Now,  do  not  forget  this,  I  charge 


The  Master  singers  of  Nuremberg  427 

you;  so  let  us  be  off  to  hear  him  christened  a  Master- 
singer." 

All  then  went  out  into  the  street  except  David,  who 
lingered  a  moment  to  fasten  up  the  house.  All  the  way 
to  the  meadow  where  the  fete  was  to  be  held  were  sound- 
ing trumpets  and  horns,  glad  shouts  and  laughter.  Very 
soon  the  little  group  from  Sachs's  reached  the  fete,  and 
there  they  found  a  gala  sight. 

Many  guilds  had  arrived  and  were  constantly  arriving. 
Colours  were  planted  upon  the  raised  benches  which  each 
guild  occupied  by  itself.  A  little  stream  ran  through 
the  meadow,  and  upon  its  waters  boats  were  continually 
being  rowed,  full  of  laughing  men  and  women,  girls  and 
boys.  As  each  new  guild  disembarked,  it  planted  its 
colours.  Refreshment  stands  were  all  about,  and  appren- 
tices and  journeymen  were  having  great  sport. 

The  apprentices  and  girls  began  a  fine  dance,  while 
the  people  kept  landing  at  the  dock  and  coming  from  their 
boats. 

There  came  the  bakers,  the  tailors,  and  the  smiths; 
then  the  informal  gaiety  came  to  a  sudden  pause  and  the 
cry  went  up  that  the  great  Mastersingers  themselves 
had  arrived.  They  disembarked  and  formed  a  long 
procession,  Kothner  going  ahead  bearing  the  banner, 
which  had  the  portrait  of  King  David  and  his  harp 
upon  it. 

At  sight  of  the  banner  all  waved  their  hats,  while  the 
Masters  proceeded  to  tlicir  platform. 

When  they  had  reached  their  place,  Pogner  led  Eva 
forward,  and  at  the  ?amc  moment  Hans  Sachs  arrived 
and  again  all  waved  a;u!  c'neercd  loudly.  Eva  took  the 
place  of  honour,  and  behind  them  all  was  —  Beckmesser, 
v.ilrljy  struggling  to  learn  his  great  song.     He  kei)t  taking 


428  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

the  manuscript  from  his  pocket  and  putting  it  back, 
sweating  and  mumbling,  standing  first  on  one  of  his  sore 
feet  and  then  upon  the  other,  a  ridiculous  figure,  indeed. 

At  length,  Sachs  stood  up  and  spoke  to  those  who  had 
welcomed  him  so  graciously. 

"Friends,  since  I  am  beloved  of  thee,  I  have  one  favour 
to  ask.  The  prize  this  day  is  to  be  a  unique  one,  and  I 
ask  that  the  contest  be  open.  It  is  no  more  than  fair, 
since  so  much  is  to  be  won.  I  ask  that  no  one  who  shall 
ask  for  a  chance  to  sing  for  this  fair  prize  be  denied. 
Sxhall  this  be  so?" 

While  he  waited  for  an  answer,  every  one  was  in  com- 
motion. 

"Say,  Marker,"  he  asked  of  Beckmesser,  ''is  this  not 
as  it  should  be?" 

That  rascal  was  wiping  his  face  from  which  the  sweat 
was  streaming  and  trying  in  despair  to  conquer  the 
knight's  song. 

"You  know  you  need  not  sing  that  song  unless  you 
wish,"  Hans  reminded -him,  aside. 

"My  own  is  abandoned,  and  now  it  is  too  late  for  me 
to  make  another,"  Beckmesser  moaned;  "but  with  you 
out  of  the  contest  —  well,  I  shall  surely  win  with  any- 
thing.    You  must  not  desert  me  now." 

"Well,  let  it  be  agreed,"  Hans  cried  aloud,  "that  the 
contest  shall  be  open  to  all;  so  now  begin." 

"The  oldest  first,"  Kothner  cried,  thus  calling  atten- 
tion to  the  age  of  Beckmesser.  "Begin,  Beckmesser," 
another  shouted. 

"Oh,  the  devil,"  Beckmesser  moaned,  trying  to  peep 
again  at  the  song  which  he  had  not  been  able  to  learn. 
He  desperately  ascended  the  mound  which  was  reserved 
for  the  singers,  escorted  by  an  apprentice.     He  stumbled 


The  Mastersingers  of  Nuremberg  429 

and  nearly  fell,  so  excited  was  he,  and  so  frightened  at 
his  plight,  for  he  did  not  know  the  song,  and  he  had  none 
of  his  own.  Altogether  he  was  in  a  bad  way  —  but  he 
was  yet  to  be  in  a  worse! 

"Come  and  make  this  mound  more  firm,"  he  snarled, 
nearly  falling  down.  At  that  everybody  laughed.  Fi- 
nally he  placed  himself,  and  all  waited  for  him  to  begin. 
This  is  how  he  sang  the  words  of  the  first  stanza : 

Bathing  in  sunlight  at  dawning  of  the  day, 

With  bosom  bare, 

To  greet  the  air; 

My  beauty  steaming, 

Faster  dreaming, 

A  garden  roundelay  wearied  my  way. 

Only  compare  this  with  the  words  of  the  song  as  Walther 
sang  them !     The  music  matched  the  words  for  absurdity. 

"Good  gracious!  He's  lost  his  senses,"  one  Master- 
singer  said  to  another.  Eeckmesser,  realizing  that  he 
was  not  getting  the  song  right,  became  more  and  more 
confused.  He  felt  the  amazement  of  the  people,  and 
that  made  him  desperate.  At  last,  half  crazed  with 
rage  and  shame,  he  pulled  the  song  from  his  pocket  and 
peeped  at  it.  Ihen  he  tried  again,  but  turned  giddy, 
and  at  last  tottered  down  from  the  mound,  while  people 
began  to  jeer  at  him.  Hans  Sachs  might  have  been  sorry 
for  the  wretch,  had  he  not  known  how  dishonest  he 
had  been,  willing  to  use  another's  song  that  he  might 
gain  the  prize. 

Beckmesser  rushed  furiously  toward  Sachs  and  shook 
his  fist  at  him: 

"Oh,  ye  accursed  cobbler!  Ye  have  ruined  me,"  he 
screamed,  and  rushing  madly  away  he  lost  himself  in  the 
crowd.     In  his  rage,  he  had  screamed  that  the  song  was 


43©  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

Sachs's,  but  nobody  would  believe  him,  because,  as  Beck- 
messer  had  sung  it,  it  had  sounded  so  absurd. 

Sachs  took  the  manuscript  quietly  up,  after  Beckmesser 
had  thrown  it  down. 

"The  song  is  not  mine,"  he  declared.  "But  I  vow  it  is 
a  most  lovely  song,  and  that  it  has  been  sung  wrong.  I 
have  been  accused  of  making  this,  and  now  I  deny  it.  I 
beg  of  the  one  who  wrote  it  to  come  forth  now  and  sing 
it  as  it  should  be  sung.  It  is  the  song  of  a  great  master, 
believe  me,  friends  and  Mastersingers.  Poet,  come  forth, 
I  pray  you,"  he  called,  and  then  Walther  stepped  to  the 
mound,  modestly.  Every  one  beheld  him  with  pleasure. 
He  was  indeed  a  fine  and  gallant-looking  fellow. 

"Now,  Masters,  hold  the  song;  and  smce  I  swear  that 
I  did  not  write  it,  but  know  the  one  who  did  —  let  my 
words  be  proved.  Stand,  Sir  Knight,  and  prove  my 
truth."  Then  Kothner  took  the  manuscript  that  the 
Mastersingers  might  follow  the  singing  and  know  if  the 
knight  was  honest;  and  Walther,  standing  in  the  singers' 
place,  began  the  song  a  little  fearfully. 

The  Masters  following  him  recognized  the  truth  of  all 
that  Hans  Sachs  had  spoken,  and  presently  dropped  the 
paper  in  amazement.  They  became  lost  in  listening  to 
the  music,  which  swelled  higher  and  higher,  growing  more 
and  more  beautiful  with  every  measure,  tUl  all  the  people 
of  Nuremberg  sat  spellbound.     At  last: 

"His  prize,  his  prize!"  they  shouted;  and  Pogner  came 
to  him  weeping  with  joy. 

"It  is  thy  doing,"  Walther  said  tremblingly  to  Hans; 
and  then  he  was  conducted  to  where  Eva  awaited  him. 
He  stooped  and  she  placed  the  victor's  wreath  upon  his 
head.  But  that  was  not  the  end.  The  Mastersingers 
turned  to  Pogner: 


The  Master  singers  of  Nuremberg  431 

''Herr  Pogner,  it  it  thy  right  to  crown  the  knight  who 
has  won  this  prize,"  and  with  that  Pogner  hung  a  golden 
chain  about  Walther's  neck,  from  which  was  suspended 
three  medals.     Walther  would  have  refused  it. 

"I  have  a  dearer  prize  than  this,  my  friends,"  he  cried, 
looking  at  Eva. 

"Nay,  take  thy  chain,  too,"  Sachs  urged  him,  smiling. 
"That  shall  be  the  sign  of  the  Mastersingers'  approval." 
Walther  bowed  his  head  and  received  the  chain,  while 
the  people  stood  up  and  shouted. 

Thus  in  one  day,  the  knight,  Walther  von  Stolzing, 
became  a  bridegroom  and  a  Mastersinger. 


LOHENGRIN 

CHARACTERS   OF  THE   OPERA 

Lohengrin,  Knight  of  the  Holy  Grail. 

Henry  I,  King  of  Germany. 

Frederick  of  Telramund,  a  noble  of  Brabant. 

The  Royal  Herald. 

Gottfried,  Elsa's  brother,  and  mute. 

Four  nobles  of  Brabant. 

Elsa  von  Brabant. 

Ortrud,  wife  of  Telramund. 

Four  pages. 

Saxons,  nobles  of  Brabant,  ladies,  and  pages. 

The  story  is  laid  in  Antwerp,  during  the  first   half  of  the  tenth 
century. 

First  production  at  Weimer,  Germany,  August  28,  1850. 

Composer:  Richard  Wagner. 

ACT  I 

On  a  meadow  on  the  banks  on  the  river  Scheldt,  King 
Henry  and  his  Saxon  nobles  were  one  day  assembled  in 
their  hall  of  justice,  which  in  those  times  was  beneath  a 
broad  -  spreading  oak.  From  another  petty  German 
political  division  had  come  Frederick  of  Telramund, 
with  his  wife  Ortrud.  In  turn  they  were  surrounded 
by  their  own  retainers  from  their  province,  but  all  were 
assembled  at  King  Henry's  call  to  rally  in  defence  of  the 
Kingdom. 

When  all  were  awaiting  Henry's  will,  his  Herald  stepped 
forth  and  blew  a  blast  upon  his  trumpet. 

432 


Lohengrin  433 

"Hark!  Princes,  Nobles,  Freemen  of  Brabant!  Our 
sovereign  has  called  ye  all  to  rally  to  his  defence.  May 
he  count  upon  the  loyalty  of  all?" 

At  once,  the  nobles  took  up  the  cry,  and  welcomed 
their  sovereign  to  the  country.  Then  King  Henry  thanked 
them  for  their  good  will  and  made  the  following  announce- 
ment: 

"Nobles,  Freemen,  all  I  I  come  not  only  to  receive 
this  welcome,  but  to  tell  ye  that  Germany  is  in  danger 
of  invasion  from  the  Hungarian  hordes;  and  that  upon 
our  frontiers  there  are  German  wives  and  children  pray- 
ing for  our  protecting  arms.  As  the  nation's  guardian  it 
is  fitting  that  I  make  an  end  of  this  misrule  which  has 
left  us  threatened  again  and  again  by  this  lawless  people. 
As  ye  ^\'ill  recall,  I  made  a  nine  years'  truce  with  our  ene- 
mies, when  they  last  tormented  us;  and  now  the 
time  is  past,  they  demand  a  tribute  which,  for  the 
sake  of  our  people,  I  have  refused  them.  It  is  time 
for  us  to  up  and  arm  against  them,  and  once  for  all  de- 
feat them." 

Henry  spoke  earnestly,  with  evident  devotion  to  his 
subjects,  and  both  Saxons  and  Brabantians  responded, 
but  the  men  of  Brabant  looked  to  their  immediate  Lord, 
Frederick  of  Telramund,  for  assent.  He  hesitated  a 
moment,  and  then  stepped  before  the  King, 

"Great  Eang, "  he  said,  "thou  art  here  to  judge,  to 
listen  to  the  differences  of  thy  people,  to  make  wrong 
right,  so  far  as  in  thee  lies,  and  on  my  part  I  will  not 
stoop  to  falsehood.  I  have  a  grievance.  Thou  knowcst 
when  death  took  away  our  beloved  Duke,  his  children, 
Elsa  and  Gottfried,  were  left  in  my  charge.  I  became 
their  guardian.  I  treasured  them  and  guarded  their 
interests  valiantly;  but  one  day,  the  two  wandered  forth 


434  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

into  the  forest.  In  time  Elsa,  the  elder,  returned,  tremb- 
ling and  seemingly  full  of  fear.  She  was  alone,  and  when 
questioned  about  the  safety  of  her  young  brother  could 
tell  us  nothing.  We  sought  for  him,  but  never  found  him. 
She  pretended  to  be  in  great  distress,  but  her  manner 
betrayed  her  guilt ;  of  that  I  am  certain.  There  were 
but  they  two,  alone,  and  yet  she  could  give  us  no  intelli- 
gent stor}!'  of  his  disappearance.  A  horror  of  the  young 
girl  fell  upon  me.  I  could  not  bear  her  in  my  sight,  be- 
cause I  felt  she  was  responsible  for  her  young  brother's 
death.  Her  hand  had  been  offered  me  in  marriage  by 
her  father,  but  feeling  that  she  was  guilty,  I  gave  her  up. 
I  could  not  have  married  one  who,  in  my  mind,  was  so 
wicked.  Therefore  I  have  chosen  another  wife,  Ortrud 
of  Radbod."  As  he  spoke,  he  brought  his  wife  before 
the  King  and  she  made  an  obeisance. 

"Now,  my  sovereign,  I  here  charge  the  Lady  Elsa 
with  the  crime,  and  ask  thee  to  punish  her  as  may  be 
fitting.  I  also  claim  that  as  a  fraticide  she  has  forfeited 
her  claim  to  all  her  lands;  and  as  her  nearest  kinsman,  I 
claim  them."  There  ensued  a  painful  silence,  because 
the  Lady  Elsa  of  Brabant  was  a  beautiful  and  gentle 
creature,  and  it  was  difficult  for  any  one  to  believe  such 
a  monstrous  story  of  her.  Then  arose  a  great  outcry 
against  the  statement. 

''Telramund,  what  hast  thou  said?  This  is  a  dreadful 
accusation." 

"A  fearful  thing,  indeed,  Frederick,"  the  good  King 
protested. 

"But  if  thou  wilt  consider,  great  King,  there  is  cause 
for  my  belief.  The  maid,  believing  herself  sole  sovereign 
of  Brabant,  now  that  the  boy  was  dead,  became  dreamy 
and   strange,    thinking   upon    some   other   with   whom 


Lohengrin  435 

she  might  wish  to  share  both  her  fortune  and  hei 
power.  Me  she  disdained,  after  her  younger  brother  was 
gone." 

The  just  King  became  very  thoughtful  for  a  time,  then 
he  said  sadly: 

"Summon  the  accused  maid,  and  all  of  ye  prepare  to 
utter  a  just  judgment.  Heaven  help  me  to  judge  her 
rightly!" 

The  Herald  again  sounded  his  trumpet. 

"Dost  thou  determine  to  hold  thy  court  of  judgment 
here,  O  King?" 

"Aye!  I  will  not  rest  beneath  my  shield  until  the 
truth  is  sifted."  Then  all  the  Saxon  nobles,  who  had 
instantly  bared  their  swords,  struck  them  against  the  earth, 
but  those  of  Brabant  laid  theirs  flat  upon  the  ground. 

Scene  II 

"Appear,  ye  royal  maid,  appear!"  the  Herald  cried, 
and  slowly  from  behind  the  crowd  of  nobles  the  beautiful 
Elsa  appeared.  She  left  the  ladies  of  her  court  behind 
her,  and  stood  forth  quite  alone. 

"Behold!"  all  cried.  "See  how  her  face  is  clouded 
with  sorrow!"  She  appeared  so  beautiful  and  innocent 
that  no  one  could  believe  in  her  guilt. 

The  King  asked  her  if  she  were  willing  to  recognize  him 
as  her  sovereign  and  to  abide  by  his  judgment,  and  she 
bowed  her  head. 

"Dost  thou  know  the  crime  with  which  thou  art 
charged?"  he  asked.  Elsa  looked  toward  Ortrud  and 
Telramund,  and  bowed  her  head.  "Canst  thou  deny 
the  accusation?"  he  demanded  in  a  kind  voice.  She 
shook   her   head,   sadly,   for   she   was   without   defence. 


43^ 


Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 


"Then  dost  thou  confess  thy  guilt?"  he  persisted,  but 
her  only  answer  was: 

"Oh,  my  poor  brother!'*  All  those  present  looked 
sorrowfully  at  her.  The  King  was  much  touched  by 
her  hopeless  bearing. 

"Come,  Lady,  confide  freely  in  thy  sovereign." 

Then  she  stood  alone  and  told  what  she  knew  had 
happened,  as  if  she  were  speaking  in  a  dream. 


8va^ 


Sa 


e 


F9 


i 


Oft  when  hours  were  lonely,  I  unto  Heav'n  have  prayed, 
One  boon  I  asked  for,  only,  to  send  the  orphans  aid; 
I  prayed  in  tears  and  sorrow,  with  heavy  heart  and  sore, 
Hoping  a  brighter  morrow  yet  was  for  us  in  store. 

Afar  my  words  were  wafted,  I  dreamt  not  help  was  nigh, 
But  one  on  high  vouchsafed  it,  while  I  in  sleep  did  lie. 
I  saw  in  splendour  shining,  a  knight  of  glorious  mien, 
On  me  his  eyes  incKning  with  tranquil  gaze  serene. 

A  horn  of  gold  beside  him,  he  leant  upon  his  sword, 
Thus  when  I  erst  espied  him  'mid  clouds  of  light  he  soar'd; 
His  words  so  low  and  tender  brought  life  renewed  to  me. 
My  guardian,  my  defender,  thou  shalt  my  champion  be! 


Thus  she  sang,  while  all  present  looked  at  her  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"She  dreams!"  they  cried. 

"Frederick  of  Telramund,"    the  King  cried,   "it    is 


Lohengrin  437 

hard  to  believe  wrong  of  this  maiden.  Think,  while  yet 
there  is  time,  of  what  ye  say!  Do  not  let  any  hate  in  thy 
heart  make  thee  wrong  a  defenceless  girl,"  he  cautioned, 
while  all  the  nobles  protested  that  it  seemed  impossible 
she  could  have  done  so  foul  a  thing  as  that  of  which  she 
was  accused. 

"Her  dreamy  mood  may  deceive  thee,"  Frederick 
said,  "but  it  has  never  deceived  me.  Do  ye  not  hear  that 
she  raves  about  a  lover?  I  declare  that  I  have  spoken 
truly,  and  who  will  dare  give  me  the  lie?"  Whereupon  all 
the  nobles  of  Brabant  came  forward  to  uphold  their  Lord. 

"We  stand  by  thee,  Frederick  of  Brabant,"  they  cried. 

"I  have  always  known  thee  to  be  honourable,"  the" 
King  replied,  turning  his  eyes  sadly  upon  Elsa,  who  still 
stood  gazing  ahead  of  her,  as  if  half  dreaming,  or  maybe 
seeing  the  vision  she  had  described. 

"Elsa  of  Brabant,  I  have  no  choice  but  to  let  Heaven 
decide  for  thee.  I  have  no  proof  of  thy  guilt  or  innocence. 
This  knight  Frederick  is  known  to  me  as  an  honourable 
man,  and  I  cannot  slight  his  word,  so  Heaven  alone  can 
help  thee."  The  King  drew  his  sword  and  struck  it 
against  the  ground. 

". Answer  me,  Frederick,  wilt  thou  do  battle  here  with 
whoever  may  appear  to  defend  this  Lady?" 

"I  will,  right  valiantly,"  he  answered,  his  wife  urging 
him  on  to  all  that  he  said. 

"And  thou,  Elsa,  wilt  thou  name  thy  champion,  and 
leave  thy  honour  in  his  hands?" 

"Aye,"  she  answered,  simply. 

"Then  name  the  man,"  the  King  demanded. 

"Now  we  shall  hear  the  name  of  her  lover,"  Frederick 
said  hastily.  "It  will  surely  be  he  who  was  her  ac- 
complice." 


438  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"To  whomsoever  will  defend  me  I  will  give  all  my  lands 
and  love,"  she  answered  firmly,  waiting  for  some  knight 
to  stand  out  from  the  others,  and  declare,  for  her  cause 
and  defence. 

Each  looked  at  the  other,  but  no  one  spoke  or  moved. 
Then  the  King  cried: 

"Sound  the  trumpet!  Call  the  warrior  knight  by  thy 
bugle!"  The  Herald  advanced  with  four  trumpeters, 
whom  he  turned  toward  north,  south,  east,  and  west,  and 
had  them  sound  their  trumps. 

"Who  will  here  do  battle  for  Elsa  of  Brabant,"  he 
shouted.  No  one  answered  and  the  lonely,  defenceless 
Elsa  looked  about  pitifully,  in  great  anxiety. 

"Ah,  ye  see  how  poor  a  cause  she  hath!"  Frederick 
called,  pointing  to  her. 

"Dear  sovereign,  once  again  I  beg  the  right  to  call 
for  a  defender.  My  knight  dwells  afar  off,  and  cannot 
arrive  at  once." 

"Again  sound  thy  trumpets,"  the  King  directed  the 
Herald,  and  again  they  called  to  the  four  points  of  the 
compass.  Still  all  was  silent.  Then  Elsa  sank  upon  her 
knees,  while  the  ladies  of  her  court  came  forward  to  crowd 
protectingly  about  her  because  they  loved  her  very  much. 
She  prayed  earnestly  that  some  defender  might  come  to 
her,  and  so  affected  were  all  present,  except  Frederick 
and  his  wife,  that  all  joined  in  her  prayer. 

Then  a  strange  thing  happened;  those  standing  nearest 
the  water's  edge  saw  a  boat  coming  up  the  river, 
drawn  by  a  lovely  swan.  In  the  boat  stood  a  handsome 
knight,  so  beautiful  and  kind  of  face,  and  so  glittering 
with  silver  armour,  that  they  fairly  held  their  breath 
in  admiration. 

"See!"  they  cried.     "Some  one  —  a  marvellous  man 


Lohengrin  *  439 

appears  upon  the  river."  All  the  others,  excepting  Elsa, 
who  remained  upon  her  knees,  went  back  to  the  river's 
edge  to  look. 

"Oh,  he  is  a  brave  knight  —  he  stands  in  the  prow  — 
his  armour  gleams  liJ^e  the  sun  —  a  swan  draws  him.  He 
wears  a  helmet  of  light  upon  his  brow.  He  is  nearing 
the  shore!  —  He  has  golden  reins  upon  his  swan."  All 
but  the  King,  Telramund,  Ortrud,  and  Elsa  were  crowd- 
ing about  the  river's  bank,  to  sec  the  glorious  sight. 

Frederick  and  Ortrud  were  frightened,  and  cast  strange 
looks  of  fear  at  each  other;  the  King  rose  from  his  seat  to 
see;  but  Elsa,  overcome  with  joy,  remained  where  she 
was,  not  even  looking  around. 

"It  is  a  miracle  wrought  among  us,"  the  nobles  cried, 
and  all  the  ladies  of  the  court  fell  upon  their  knees. 

Scene  III 

The  gorgeous  knight  drew  to  the  shore.  He  wore  his 
shield  upon  his  back,  a  little  silver  horn  at  his  side,  and 
he  glittered  and  gleamed  in  his  beautiful  armour  in  a 
way  almo=t  sufficient  to  blind  one.  The  people  fell  back 
to  let  him  land,  and  Frederick  looked  frightened,  while 
the  moment  Ortrud  saw  the  swan  she  was  for  some  reason 
seized  with  a  terrible  fright.  As  everybody  bowed  their 
heads,  having  doffed  their  helmets,  Elsa  looked  around 
and  gave  one  great  cry  of  joy  at  the  sight  of  her  champion, 
who  v.-as  the  knight  of  her  dream. 

Lohengrin  —  for  it  was  he  —  stepped  from  his  boat, 
and  with  one  foot  u[)on  the  shore  and  one  upon  his  boat 
ga\c  thanks  to  his  swan  for  having  borne  him  so  swiftly 
and  :-afely. 

"Xo\v,  ihou  trusty  swan,  return  at  once  to  tljat  land 


440  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

whence  we  came,  and  rejoice,  for  thy  task  is  over."  After 
he  had  bade  it  farewell,  the  stately  swan  slowly  sailed 
away. 

Lohengrin  came  toward  the  King  and  bowed  low. 

"Hail!  gracious  sovereign.  Thy  name  shall  ever  stand 
proudly  in  this  land.  I  have  come  to  fight  for  this  dear 
maid's  honour.  I  ask  her,  before  thee  all,  if  she  wtII 
entrust  to  me  her  fame?"  Elsa,  so  tender  and  confiding, 
sank  upon  her  knees  before  him. 

"If  thou  wilt  protect  me  I  am  thine  forever,"  she 
answered. 

"I  must  ask  of  thee  one  promise  in  return,  dear  maid. 
It  is  this :  If  I  win  the  fight  in  thy  cause,  and  thou  become 
my  bride,  never,  as  thou  dost  love  me,  must  thou  ask 
whence  I  came.  I  must  never  be  asked  by  thee  my  name 
or  race.  This  one  promise  alone  must  I  crave  of  thee." 
He  waited  hopefully  for  her  answer. 

His  appearance  was  so  noble  that  none  could  doubt 
him,  and  she  answered  instantly: 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  thee  in  my  heart,  dear  defender. 
I  will  never  question  thee.  I  will  ever  cherish  thy  com- 
mand."    He  raised  her  to  her  feet,  and  embraced  her. 

"I  shall  guard  and  love  thee  always,"  Lohengrin  an- 
swered, and  led  her  to  the  King  who  gave  her  into  his 
charge.  After  that  he  stepped  into  the  midst  of  the 
crowd  of  nobles. 

"I  want  you  all  to  know  that  this  maid  is  innocent. 
The  tales  of  Frederick  of  Telramund  are  false,  and  now 
I  shall  prove  it  by  vanquishing  him  in  the  fight.  Great 
King,  command  us  to  begin."  The  company  drew  back 
to  their  places,  and  the  King  commanded  six  knights 
to  measure  a  certain  space  upon  each  side,  which  he  de- 
clared was  a  fenced  field  for  the  combat.      Three  Saxon 


Lohengrin  441 

nobles  advanced  for  Lohengrin  and  three  Brabantians 
for  Frederick.  WTien  they  had  formed  a  circle,  all  stuck 
their  spears  into  the  ground  and  waited. 

The  Herald  declared  that  any  one  who  interfered  should 
lose  his  head.  He  also  declared  that  neither  combatant 
should  use  magic  arts  in  fighting.  The  King  stepped 
into  the  circle  made  for  the  fighters,  and  prayed  to  Heaven 
to  let  the  right  conquer;  to  give  the  champion  of  the  right 
a  stronger  arm  and  more  skill  than  his  enemy. 

The  sLx  men  forming  the  circle  stood  beside  their  spears 
which  were  stuck  into  the  ground;  the  other  nobles  and 
freemen  formed  a  larger  circle  outside  the  battle  ground, 
while  Elsa  and  her  ladies  stood  in  front,  beneath  the  oak 
tree  beside  the  King,  and  the  fighters  prepared  to  enter 
the  circle.  The  Iving  struck  his  sword  three  times  upon 
his  great  shield  which  hung  upon  the  tree,  as  a  signal  to 
begin.  At  the  first  stroke  the  fighters  entered  the  circle; 
at  the  second  stroke  they  raised  their  shields  and  drew 
their  swords;  at  the  third  stroke  they  began  the  fight. 
After  a  mighty  battle,  Frederick  fell,  and  Lohengrin 
placed  the  point  of  his  sword  at  his  throat. 

"I  shall  spare  thee,  Frederick  of  Telramund.  Repent 
in  peace,"  he  said,  standing  aside  that  Telramund 
might  get  up  from  the  ground.  The  six  men  drew  their 
spears  from  the  ground,  and  the  others  who  had  taken 
sides  put  their  swords  back  into  their  scabbards,  while 
Elsa  rushed  into  the  knight's  arms.  The  King  cried 
to  Lohengrin: 

"Hail!"  As  Elsa  sank  upon  the  knight's  breast,  she 
sang  of  her  love  for  him  and  of  her  faith,  and  all  rejoiced 
in  having  her  innocence  j;roven,  except  Ortrud.  She, 
indeed,  looked  dark  and  menacing. 

"How  comes  my  f)Ower  to  naught?"  she  Cjuestioned 


442  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

of  her  husband  aside,  for  in  reality  she  was  a  wicked 
enchantress,  who  had  lived  in  the  wood  near  to  Frederick. 
Her  wicked  magic  had  turned  him  into  a  bad  man,  and 
it  was  she  who  had  made  him  accuse  Elsa. 

But  the  fear  and  resentment  of  those  wicked  people 
made  little  impression  upon  the  crowd  of  exultant  nobles. 
The  King  banished  Frederick  and  his  wife,  ordering  them 
immediately  to  leave  the  place,  while  plans  for  the  wed- 
ding of  Elsa  and  Lohengrin  were  being  made.  Frederick 
fell  senseless  upon  the  ground,  and  the  youths,  spreading 
their  mantles  upon  the  shield  of  the  King,  hoisted  Elsa 
upon  it,  and  a  rejoicing  procession  of  ladies,  knights,  and 
retainers  moved  away. 

ACT   II 

In  the  great  palace  of  King  Henry  I,  at  Antwerp, 
there  were  two  parts,  called  the  Palas,  and  the  Kemenate. 
The  former  was  where  the  knights  lived,  and  the  latter 
was  the  home  of  the  ladies  of  the  court.  Late  on  the 
night  of  the  battle  between  Frederick  and  Lohengrin, 
Frederick  and  his  wife,  Ortrud,  were  sitting  without  the 
palace,  which  was  brightly  illuminated,  thinking  of  the 
misfortunes  their  wickedness  had  brought  upon  them. 
They  were  dressed  in  the  garments  of  outcasts,  as  the 
King  had  commanded,  and  especially  was  Frederick 
gazing  at  the  brightly  lighted  part  where  the  knights 
were  doubtless  making  merry  since  the  wedding  of  Lo- 
hengrin and  Elsa  was  to  be  on  the  morrow.  He  knew 
that  had  he  been  an  honest  man,  he  would  have  been 
among  them  and  happy. 

Music  could  be  heard  floating  from  the  palace  win- 
dows, and  everything  spoke  of  gaiety  and  happiness. 


Lohengrin  443 

"Come,  arouse  thyself,  Ortrud.  You  have  brought 
this  upon  us,  now  rouse  thyself,  since  it  is  near  day,  and 
we  must  be  gone  out  of  the  city." 

"I  cannot  flee!  Some  strange  thing  holds  me  here.  I 
shall  avenge  us,  you  may  be  sure  before  I  have  gone  from 
this  place."  She  rose  from  the  steps  upon  which  she  had 
been  reclining  and  went  toward  the  palace,  looking  up 
at  the  windows  where  the  women  dwelt  in  the  Kemenate. 

"I  don't  know  what  spell  binds  me  to  a  woman  so 
wicked  as  thou  art,  Ortrud,"  Frederick  exclaimed,  watch- 
ing her  moodily.  "I  should  leave  thee,  and  cast  thee  oflF. 
To  tell  the  truth  I  never  believed  the  crimes  with  which 
I  charged  that  maiden." 

"Get  thyself  up,"  she  cried  to  him,  for  he  had  thrown 
himself  upon  the  ground.  "Thou  art  but  a  chicken- 
hearted  creature,  not  fit  for  an  heroic  woman  like  me." 

"Thou  art  a  black-hearted  woman,"  he  answered,  and 
so  they  fell  to  quarrelling  vigorously.  But  at  last,  each 
being  quite  lost  to  goodness,  they  felt  their  only  help  lay 
in  each  other. 

"If  thou  wilt  be  a  decently  conducted  husband  toward 
me,  I  tell  thee  I  \\'ill  use  my  enchantments  to  imdo  that 
strange  knight,  and  then  all  will  be  well  with  us."  The 
lights  in  the  palace  began  to  go  out,  one  by  one.  "Now 
is  the  hour  when  the  stars  reveal  their  secrets  to  me,  Tel- 
ramund,"  she  said.  "Sit  here  by  me,  and  I  will  tell  you 
who  that  swan  was  who  drew  the  knight's  boat  upon  the 
river.  It  was  the  brother  of  Elsa  —  enchanted,  —  whom 
we  accused  her  of  destroying.  More  than  that,  the 
knight  is  ruined  if  the  secret  of  his  home  and  his  birth  is 
discovered.  If  Elsa  can  be  made  to  break  her  promise, 
and  get  him  to  reveal  these  things,  he  will  be  compelled 
to  leave  her  and  return  whence  he  came.     No  one  but 


444  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

she  hath  the  power  to  drag  the  secret  from  him;  but 
should  she  do  so,  it  is  as  I  have  said:  all  happiness  is  over 
for  them." 

"But  she  has  promised  —  she  will  never  ask  that  fatal 
question." 

"Do  thou  go  forth  and  say  that  sorcery  hath  triumphed 
over  thee,  and  leave  tlie  rest  to  me.  Rouse  suspicion 
about  this  knight  in  every  breast.  He  who  will  not  tell 
of  his  birth  nor  land  is  soon  suspected.  Say  that 
he  won  the  fight  by  magic,  and  I  will  see  that  Elsa  asks 
the  fatal  question." 

"She  will  never  do  it " 

"Well,  suppose  she  does  not;  the  magic  of  my  father 
is  not  forgotten  by  me.  Let  me  tell  you  how  we  may 
force  his  ruin,  even  if  we  cannot  make  her  break  her  word. 
If  that  knight  should  lose  one  drop  of  blood,  he  would  be 
lost.    All  his  power  would  then  be  gone." 

"Oh,  if  I  had  but  pricked  his  finger  in  the  fight!" 

"He  would  have  been  completely  in  thy  power."  As 
she  said  this,  the  door  of  the  Kemenate  slowly  opened, 
and  Elsa  came  out  upon  the  balcony. 

Scene  II 

Elsa  was  clothed  all  in  white,  and  she  came  out  into 
the  night  to  think  alone  of  her  knight,  to  thank  Heaven 
for  her  deliverance,  and  to  take  new  vows  of  faith  and 
steadfastness  to  her  promise.  All  the  while  she  stood 
there,  Frederick  and  Ortrud  were  watching  her  from 
below,  where  they  sat  upon  the  steps. 

"Now  away!"  she  whispered  to  Telramund.  "It  is 
for  me  to  be  left  alone  with  this  affair.  I  shall  speak 
with  her."    Telramund,  hoping  that  by  fair  or  foul  means 


Lohengrin  445 

his  wife  would  win  him  back  his  forfeited  knighthood, 
departed.  After  a  little  Ortrud  called  in  a  very  sweet 
but  sad  voice; 

''Elsa!"      Elsa  started  and  looked  over  the  balcony. 

"Ortrud!  What  art  thou  doing  here?  Wert  thou 
not  told  to  go  far  away  from  this  place,  where  you  tried 
so  hard  to  wrong  me?" 

"Alas!  Elsa,  can  you  who  are  so  happy,  speak  harshly 
to  one  so  forlorn  and  deserted?  Indeed  it  was  not  I  who 
harmed  thee.  Telramund  had  some  strange  delusion, 
and  it  was  he  who  cast  a  doubt  upon  thee.  Now  his 
eyes  are  opened  and  he  is  wandering  sadly  and  alone; 
but  I  have  done  thee  no  harm.  It  was  he  who  accused 
thee.  I  could  not  stay  him.  Yet  I  must  sufiFer  for  it  all, 
while  thou  art  happy  and  serene.  I  am  glad  of  thy 
happiness,  but  do  not  let  it  make  thee  unfeeling  toward 
one  who  is  so  v.Tetched." 

That  touched  the  soft  heart  of  Elsa,  and  she  listened 
kindly.   After  a  little  she  spoke  words  of  comfort  to  Ortrud: 

"Hast  thou  no  place  to  go  this  night?" 

"Nay!  We  are  quite  abandoned;  but  I  could  rest 
well  enough  upon  these  steps  if  I  did  not  remember  that 
you  had  suffered  ihrough  Telramund."  That  made 
Elsa's  generous  heart  trouble  her. 

"Thou  must  com.e  in,  and  stay  this  night  with  me," 
she  said.  "Wait  here  and  I  shall  return."  She  went 
back  into  the  Kcmcnate,  and  the  moment  she  was  left 
alone,  Ortrud  began  rejoicing  in  the  wickedest  way,  be- 
cause she  had  been  thus  far  successful  in  deceiving  Elsa. 
KWa  returned  with  two  of  her  maids  bearing  lights. 

"Where  art  thou,  Ortrud?"  Elsa  called  before  opening 
the  door  below  the  balcony;  and  the  sorceress  threw 
herself  upon  her  knees  and  answered  sweetly: 


446  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Here,  kneeling  before  thee,  generous  maiden." 

"Thou  art  worn  and  unhappy,  and  to-morrow  is  my 
wedding  day.  I  could  not  be  gay  and  know  that  thou 
wert  suffering,  so  come  in  with  me,  and  sleep  beside  me, 
and  to-morrow  array  thyself  in  fine  clothing  and  be  happy 
with  the  rest  of  us."  Ortrud  pretended  great  happiness 
and  gratitude  upon  hearing  this. 

"Ah!  Who  would  betray  so  gentle  and  trusting  a 
maid?"  Ortrud  sighed.  "I  pray  that  the  glamour 
which  surrounds  thy  knight  who  was  brought  hither  by 
magic  may  never  depart  and  leave  thee  miserable." 
She  sighed  again,  as  if  she  had  some  secret  fear. 

"Oh,  I  could  not  doubt  him,"  Elsa  cried.  But  the 
same  moment  a  little  seed  of  distrust  entered  her  heart. 
It  was  true  she  knew  nothing  of  whence  he  had  come; 
and  moreover  was  forbi(^den  to  ask. 

"Nay.  Thou  must  never  doubt  him,"  Ortrud  said 
plausibly,  "since  thy  lips  are  forever  sealed  and  ye 
can  never  ask  one  of  those  questions  which  other  maidens 
and  wives  may  ask  their  husbands  and  lovers.  It  would 
not  do  to  doubt  him.  Thou  must  try  to  believe  he  is 
true  and  good,  as  he  himself  has  said." 

Elsa  looked  doubtfully  at  Ortrud,  whose  words  had 
made  a  sad  impression  upon  her,  and  yet  she  loved  the 
knight  so  well  she  would  not  own  it.  But  Ortrud  guessed 
perfectly  that  already  she  had  made  Elsa  suspicious  and 
imhappy. 

Trying  to  shake  off  the  apprehension  that  was  settling 
upon  her  because  of  the  wicked  woman's  words,  Elsa 
led  the  way  into  the  palace,  and  the  maids  locked  the 
door,  and  the  day  almost  immediately  began  to  break. 
Frederick  came  prowling  back,  like  some  bad  animal, 
looking  after  the  two  women  who  had  gone  within,  r^' 


Lohengrin  447 

"There  went  a  woman  of  darkness!"  he  murmured, 
"but  I  can  trust  her  magic  and  her  godless  spirit  to  win 
back  my  fortunes."  While  he  was  thinking  upon  these 
things  the  day  dawned  and  two  warders  blew  a  blast 
from  the  turret  where  they  walked,  which  announced  the 
wedding  morning  of  the  knight  and  Elsa.  A  warder  in 
another  turret  answered  with  his  trumpet,  and  soon 
people  began  to  assemble  from  all  the  country  round. 
Frederick  looked  about  for  some  place  to  conceal  himself 
from  the  crowd.  Seeing  some  projecting  ornamentation 
upon  the  porch  of  the  place  where  he  and  Ortrud  had  sat, 
he  slipped  behind  and  waited. 

Scene  III 

Trumpets  began  to  sound  back  and  forth,  from  all  parts 
of  the  vast  buildings  of  the  palace.  Soon  the  warders 
descended  from  their  towers  and  unlocked  the  gates  of 
the  court.  The  servants  of  the  castle  entered,  and  went 
about  their  duties,  some  drawing  water  at  the  well,  some 
passing  on  into  the  palace,  where  they  were  employed 
to  wait  upon  knights  and  ladies.  The  four  royal  trump- 
eters went  to  the  gates,  and  sounding  their  trumps  to 
the  four  corners  of  the  earth,  notified  the  country  round 
that  it  was  time  to  assemble  at  the  palace.  Nobles  and 
inhabitants  of  the  great  castle  entered  and  peasants  and 
knights  living  without  the  gates  came  from  the  road,  till 
a  magnificent  host  were  gathered  for  the  occasion  of 
Elsa's  wedding. 

When  all  had  assembled,  a  Herald  mounted  a  high 
place  before  the  palace. 

"Now  all  listen,"  he  cried.  "By  order  of  the  King, 
Frederick  of  Telramund  is  laid  under  a  ban,  and  whoever 


448  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

shall  serve  him  or  take  pity  upon  him  shall  suffer  his  fate." 
The  people  cried  curses  upon  the  false  knight.  "Further- 
more," the  Herald  cried,  ''I  am  to  announce  that  the 
King  has  given  to  the  brave  knight  who  defended  the 
honour  of  the  Lady  Elsa  a  sceptre  and  a  crown.  The 
knight  does  not  consent  to  take  the  title  of  Duke,  but 
he  is  willing  to  be  known  as  the  Guardian  of  Brabant, 
and  as  such  he  will  defend  his  people."  All  hailed  the 
knight  joyously,  and  welcomed  him  as  their  guardian. 
"The  knight  bids  me  give  a  message.  All  of  you  are 
to  come  to  the  wedding,  but  as  soon  as  it  is  over  he  bids 
ye  take  up  arms,  and  to-morrow  at  dawn,  he  will  go  forth 
with  ye  to  rout  the  invader  who  has  so  long  troubled  our 
King."  Again  all  cried,  "Hail!"  They  were  delighted 
with  the  valour  of  their  new  defender. 

"We  shall  follow  where  he  leads!"  all  cried,  and  turned 
to  speak  enthusiastically  with  each  other  and  to  promise 
loyalty  among  themselves. 

In  the  midst  of  this  rejoicing  and  good  will,  four  nobles 
of  Frederick  collected. 

"Ye  hear,  do  ye  not,  that  we  are  banished?"  one 
said;  because  they,  as  supporters  of  Frederick  against 
the  Lady  Elsa,  were  under  the  ban.  "What  think  ye? 
Are  we  too  to  leave  home  and  country  and  fight  a  people 
who  ne'er  harmed  us,  because  of  this  new  comer?" 

"I  feel  as  bitter  as  ye,"  another  said.  "Yet  who  dares 
affront  the  King  or  resist  his  will?" 

"I,"  said  a  cold  and  bitter  voice,  and  as  they  turned, 
they  saw  Frederick  himself,  standing  by  their  shoulders. 

"Great  heaven!  If  thou  art  seen,  thy  life  will  be  in 
danger!"  they  cried. 

"Do  not  fear.  This  very  day  I  shall  unmask  this 
upstart  knight!"    He  was  about  to  say  more,  but  some 


Lohengrin  449 

pages  ran  gaily  down  the  palace  steps  and  the  Braban- 
tian  nobles  pushed  Frederick  back  into  his  hiding  place, 
in  haste.  Every  one  crowded  round  the  pages,  who  they 
knew  came  before  Elsa  and  her  ladies. 

"Make  way  there  I"  the  pages  cried,  forcing  a  way 
for  the  procession.  When  a  wide  passage  was  made, 
Eisa  and  all  her  retinue  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
Kemenate. 

Scene  IV 

A  magnificent  procession  of  great  ladies  and  nobles, 
attended  by  train-bearers  and  pages,  came  from  the  palace 
and  crossed  the  court  to  the  Minster  where  Ortrud 
and  Frederick  had  rested  upon  the  steps  the  night  before 
and  the  bridal  procession  marched  to  fine  music: 


^  jf-         -i!.         ^.  i.         Jt.         Jr. 

• m 0- 


i;f*>*^.- 


n.0.    .0. 


__-.. _ . L# -• '-Ml • — 


While  this  march  was  l)cing  piaycd,  and  the  T)r()Cc??ion 
pu.shing,  al!  tlic  nc/uh's  Larcd  their  heads.     As  Elsa  was 


450  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

about  to  pass  into  the  church,  everyone  cried  long  life 
and  happiness  to  her,  and  the  air  rang  with  shouts  of 
rejoicing.  But  in  the  very  midst  of  this  fine  scene,  as 
Elsa  stood  with  her  foot  upon  the  church  steps,  Ortrud 
rushed  forward  and  confronted  her.  Her  rage  and 
jealousy  had  got  the  better  of  her  cunning  and  judgment. 

"Stand  back!"  she  cried.  "I  will  not  follow  thee  like 
a  slave,  while  thou  art  thus  powerful  and  happy.  I  swear 
that  thou  shalt  humbly  bow  thy  head  to  me!"  Every 
one  stood  in  amazement  and  horror,  because  the  sorceress 
looked  very  wicked  and  frightful,  almost  spitting  her 
anger  at  the  lovely  maid. 

"How  is  this,  after  thy  gentleness  of  last  night?"  Elsa 
murmured.  "Last  night  thou  wert  mild  and  repentant, 
why  now  so  bitter?"  She  looked  about  her  in  bewilder- 
ment, while  the  nobles  sprang  forward  and  pushed  back 
the  raging  woman. 

All  this  passed  as  quick  as  lightning. 

"Ye  flout  me!  Ye  who  will  have  for  a  husband,  one 
whom  thou  canst  not  name!"  She  laughed  derisively. 
That  hurt  Elsa  very  much  because  it  was  true.  Ortrud 
had  remained  with  her  through  the  night,  and  had  con- 
tinued to  say  so  many  things  which  had  aroused  her 
curiosity  and  fear,  that  she  was  thinking  more  and  more 
of  the  fact  that  she  knew  nothing  whatever  of  her  knight. 

"She  is  a  slanderer!  Do  not  heed  her!"  all  cried  to 
Elsa. 

"What  is  his  race?  Where  are  his  lands?  He  is  an 
adventurer!"  the  sorceress  continued  to  shout  bitterly, 
each  word  sinking  deep  into  Elsa's  heart.  But  she  roused 
herself  and  suddenly  began  to  cry  out  against  Ortrud, 
and  to  say  how  good  and  noble  the  knight  was  and  how 
tenderly  she  loved  him. 


Lohengrin  451 

"When  he  might  have  killed  your  husband  yet  he 
spared  his  life;  that  was  a  sign  of  his  great  nobleness  of 
heart!"  she  declared,  trying  to  forget  Ortnid's  words 
and  to  convince  herself. 

When  the  excitement  was  at  its  height  and  Elsa  nearly 
fainting  with  fright  and  grief,  and  her  ladies  crowding 
about  her,  the  palace  doors  again  opened,  the  trumpeters 
came  out,  and  began  to  blow  their  blasts,  while  the  King, 
Lohengrin,  and  the  Saxon  nobles  and  counts  came  in  a 
procession  from  the  Palas  as  Elsa  and  her  women  had 
ccwne  from  the  Kemenate. 

Scene  V 

Ail  hailed  Lohengrin  as  Guardian  of  Brabant,  and 
BIsa  threw  herself  passionately  into  his  arms.  At  once 
he  saw  that  something  had  happened. 

"What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"  What  is  all  this  strife?  "  the  King  demanded,  look- 
ing about  upon  the  scene.     Then  Lohengrin  saw  Ortrud. 

"Horror!  What  is  this  wicked  woman  doing  here 
beside  thee?" 

"Shelter  me  against  her  wrath!"  Elsa  pleaded.  "I 
harboured  her  lost  night,  because  she  was  weeping  out- 
side my  door,  aiid  now  she  has  tried  to  drive  my  happiness 
from  me."  Lohengrin  looked  fixedly  at  Ortrud  and  bade 
h'jr  begone. 

"Slic  hath  filled  thy  heart  with  doubts,  dear  Elsa,"  he 
said,  half  reijroachfully  and  full  of  fear,  because  he  saw 
a  change  in  the  maid.  She  wept,  and  he  drew  her  into 
ll;e  church,  wliile  the  King  and  his  train  turned  toward 
the  church  also.     Frederick  then  confronted  the  King. 

"O    great  King  and  deluded   Princess!     Ye  have  all 


452  Operas  Every  Child  Shottld  Know 

done  me  a  grievous  wrong.  I  accuse  this  stranger  of 
undoing  me  with  magic.  I  confront  him  here  and  de- 
mand his  name  and  land!  If  he  has  naught  to  fear  or 
to  be  ashamed  of,  let  him  speak."  Everyone  was  full 
of  hatred  for  Frederick,  but  at  the  same  time,  the  chal- 
lenge had  a  kind  of  justice  in  it  and  all  were  troubled. 

"It  is  not  thou  who  can  humble  me,  base  knave," 
Lohengrin  answered,  looking  contemptuously  at  Frederick. 
"It  is  not  the  doubts  of  evil  men  that  can  harm  me." 

"Thou,  O  King,  command  him  to  tell  his  place  and 
name,"  Frederick  implored. 

"Not  even  the  King  nor  any  prince  that  rules  the  earth 
shall  question  me  upon  these  things,"  Lohengrin  replied 
proudly,  facing  them  all,  as  they  turned  looks  of  inquiry 
toward  him,  "There  is  but  one  who  may  ask  —  and 
she  has  given  her  word.  She  v/ill  not  break  it,"  he  de- 
clared, looking  tenderly  at  Eisa,  who  still  waited  beside 
him  at  the  entrance  to  the  church. 

"His  secret  is  his  own,"  the  King  declared;  "so  have 
done  with  this  shameful  scene!  And  thou,  dear  knight  — 
no  doubts  shall  disturb  thy  happiness."  All  the  nobles 
crowded  loyally  about  him  as  the  King  ceased  speaking; 
but  while  they  were  taking  Lohengrin  by  the  hand,  Fred-  ' 
erick  got  close  to  Elsa,  who,  he  and  Ortrud  could  see,  was 
troubled  with  womanish  doubts. 

''Let  me  tell  thee  something,  Elsa  of  Brabant!  If 
but  one  drop  of  thy  knight's  blood  is  shed  —  a  finger 
scratched  —  his  power  and  magic  are  gone.  Give  me 
leave  to  draw  one  drop  of  his  blood,  and  all  that  he  now 
conceals,  he  will  at  once  reveal  to  thee." 

"Ah,  do  not  tempt  me!"  she  cried,  afraid  to  listen, 
because  she  had  now  become  curious  to  learn  Lohengrin's 
secret. 


Lohengrin  453 

"  I  will  say  no  more  now,  but  this  very  night  I  shall  be 
within  call.  And  if  thou  dost  only  speak  the  word,  I'll 
enter  and  prick  his  arm  %vith  my  sword  and  instantly 
he  will  tell  all,  and  can  never  more  leave  thy  side."  Lo- 
hengrin saw  Frederick  had  got  the  ear  of  Elsa,  and  in  a 
terrible  voice  told  him  to  go,  and  chided  Elsa  gently  for 
listening  to  such  a  man.  As  he  spoke  she  sank  at  his  feet, 
full  of  self-reproach. 

Lohengrin  lifted  her  and  embraced  her  lovingly,  while 
she  swore  eternal  faith  in  him,  and  then  all  turned  once 
more  to  the  church.  The  King,  the  nobles,  Lohengrin 
with  Elsa  —  all  were  passing  in  at  last;  when  Elsa, 
looking  back  just  once,  saw  the  arm  of  Ortrud  raised  in 
menace  and  with  an  expression  of  triumph  upon  her 
wicked  face.  Elsa  turned  terrified  once  more  to  Lohen- 
grin, and  they  passed  into  the  church. 

ACT  III 

After  the  ceremony  and  the  festivities  that  had  fol- 
lowed the  marriage,  came  the  peace  and  quiet  of  night. 
The  door  of  the  bridal  chamber  opened,  and  pages  went 
in  bearing  lights,  while  the  ladies  of  the  court  followed, 
leading  E!sa,  and  the  King  and  nobles  in  turn  followed 
them,  leading  Lohengrin.  It  was  a  most  beautiful  room, 
Vv'ith  a  great  open  casement  at  the  right,  through  which 
the  night-breeze  swept. 

The  nobles  and  ladies  sang  in  chorus  the  most  beau'tiful 
of  wedding  songs: 


-> I^-l—^ T— ^ S  -f  — -1 


lc;ul        \c'     furlh, 


454  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

.      ^1     _    N ^_ 


s 


^ 


Where  love,  tri — -um phant,  shall    crown    ye    with 

I  K.  K      _  J ,N 


It 


\M 


-=?— 


T=T 


KJ 


joy! 


Star 


of 


re — nown,   flow'r    of     the  earth, 


^ 


r  gjT  r-g^f^rt 


-^„, . 


Blest 


be 


ye    both     far    from  all      life's  an — noy. 


The  King  embraced  Lohengrin;  and  the  ladies,  Eisa. 
Then  the  pages  gave  a  signal  to  go,  and  all  passing  before 
the  pair  went  out  in  the  same  order  as  they  came  in. 

Scene  II 


After  all  had  gone  Lohengrin  sat  upon  the  couch  be- 
neath the  open  casement  and  drew  Elsa  down  beside  him. 
He  wished  above  all  things  to  drive  from  her  mind  all 
thoughts  of  the  suspicion  which  Ortrud  had  implanted. 
But  even  while  he  spoke  most  lovingly  and  reassuringly 
to  her,  her  thoughts  were  upon  the  mystery  of  his  name. 
When  he  spoke  her  own  she  looked  at  him  reproachfully. 

"Ah!  my  name  sounds  so  beautiful  to  me  from  thy 
lips  —  if  only  I  might  speak  thine!"  she  complained.  "If 
thou  wouldst  only  tell  me  thy  name,  it  should  never  pass 
my  lips."  Lohengrin  was  sad  upon  hearing  this.  He 
spoke  of  other  things  —  of  how  beautiful  the  night  was, 
and  of  how  they  were  to  pass  a  long  and  happy  life  to- 


Lohengrin  45  5 

gether;  but  still  her  thoughts,  poisoned  by  Ortrud,  re- 
turned again  and  again  to  the  forbidden  subject. 

"Oh!  do  not  doubt  me!  Let  me  share  thy  secret  what- 
ever it  may  be,"  she  entreated.  "I  feel  that  I  am  not 
loved  by  thee,  since  I  am  not  trusted  with  thy  story  — 
not  even  -with  thy  name."  At  last,  after  begging  her  to  be 
silent,  after  reminding  her  of  her  promise,  after  all  the 
persuasions  he  could  think  of,  he  rose  and  spoke  sternly: 

"I  have  given  thee  the  greatest  confidence,  by  believ- 
ing thee  free  from  every  stain.  With  no  proof  but  thy 
word,  I  fought  for  thy  honour.  I  asked  no  word  to  prove 
thy  ijinocence.  In  return,  I  desired  only  silence  from 
thee  about  my  name  and  birth  and  land.  It  was  partly 
for  thy  sake  that  I  asked  even  so  much.  Now  I  will  tell 
thee.  But  —  "  He  hesitated,  begging  her  once  more  to 
let  them  live  in  happiness,  and  not  to  ruin  all  by  her  fatal 
curiosity.  At  that  moment,  Frederick  and  his  false 
nobles  broke  through  the  door  v.ith  drawn  sv/ords.  They 
had  come  to  draw  his  blood  and  thus  to  render  liim  quite 
powerless. 

But  Elsa,  though  quite  ready  to  ruin  him  herself  by 
her  curiosit}',  would  not  let  him  be  hurt  by  another.  Lo- 
hengrin's armour  was  laid  off,  but  the  sword  was  by  the 
couch.  Elsa  snatched  it,  tlirust  it  into  his  hand  and  with 
a  single  blow  he  killed  Frederick.  The  nobles  fell  upon 
their  knees  before  him,  while  Elsa  fainted.  Lohengrin 
looked  upon  the  scene,  feeling  nothing  but  despair.  If 
his  blood  had  not  been  shed,  yet  to  sa\e  his  life  he  had 
been  forced  to  shed  the  blood  of  anotlicr,  and  he  had  thus 
been  rendered  hel[)less,  cjuite  the  same,  .'\fter  a  moment 
he  rang  a  bell  which  suninioned  Lisa's  ladies,  and  bid'iing 
the  four  nobles  rise,  he  cunlided  Elsa  to  th;.'  care  of 
tlie  women. 


456  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

"Bear  the  corpse  to  the  King's  judgment  hall,"  he 
said  to  the  men,  who  then  did  as  they  were  bid.  "For 
you,"  he  said  to  the  women,  "take  your  mistress  into 
the  presence  of  the  King,  and  I  will  answer  all  that  she 
desires  to  know.  Nothing  shall  longer  be  hidden."  He 
went  out  with  his  head  bent  and  his  thoughts  very  sad 
and  melancholy.  The  day  began  to  dawn,  and  the  lights 
were  all  put  out,  and  again  the  trumpets  sounded  in  the 
courtyard. 

Scene  III 

All  repaired  again  to  the  river  bank,  where  Lohengrin 
had  first  been  seen,  drawn  by  his  swan.  A  count  first 
entered,  with  his  train  of  vassals.  He  came  upon  a  horse, 
and  was  assisted  from  it  by  one  of  his  train.  Then  he 
took  his  shield  and  spear  from  his  pages  who  bore  them, 
and  then  set  up  his  banner,  after  which  the  vassals  grouped 
themselves  about  it. 

Trumpets  were  heard  on  all  sides  and  counts  continued 
to  arrive  in  the  same  order  as  the  first,  all  with  their 
vassals,  all  setting  up  their  spears  and  their  people  group- 
ing themselves  about  them.  Finally,  the  Herald  who 
annoimced  the  coming  of  the  King  was  heard,  whereupon 
all  the  banners  were  unfurled  and  the  trumpets  of  each 
noble  and  his  people  were  sounded,  and  then  entered  the 
King  and  his  Saxon  men.  As  the  King  reached  the  royal 
oak,  all  struck  their  spears  upon  their  shields,  and  cried: 

**Hail!"  The  purpose  of  the  gathering  was  to  go 
forth  against  the  foe  that  threatened  the  Germans,  the 
Hungarian  hordes.  When  all  were  beginning  to  wonder 
where  the  strange  and  brave  knight  was  who  had  them 
summoned  for  the  hour  of  dawn,  and  who  was  expected 


Lohengrin  457 

to  lead  them  to  \'ictory,  they  saw  the  body  of  Frederick 
brought  in  by  the  four  false  Brabantians.  All  stood 
aside  in  horror.  They  could  not  think  whose  corpse  it 
was. 

"They  who  bear  it  are  Telramund's  vassals,"  some 
cried,  and  at  the  same  moment  Elsa  appeared,  coming 
slowly  and  surrounded  by  her  ladies.  The  King  met  her 
and  conducted  her  to  a  seat  opposite  the  royal  oak. 

"Art  thou  mourning  because  thou  art  sorry  to  lose  thy 
Lord  so  soon,  sweet  Lady?"  the  kind  King  questioned. 
She  tried  to  answer  him,  but  her  sense  of  guilt  was  so 
great  that  she  could  not.  The  fearful  things  that  were 
about  to  happen  and  that  had  happened  had  been 
caused  by  her  woman's  curiosity,  and  now  that  it  was 
too  late,  she  was  filled  with  remorse.     Some  one  cried: 

"Make  way!  make  way!  the  Guardian  of  Brabant 
is  coming."  All  looked  and  saw  tlie  shining  knight, 
Lohengrin.     They  hailed  him  joyfully. 

"I  come  not  to  lead  ye  to  glory,"  he  answered  sadly, 
and  uncovered  the  corpse  of  Frederick  of  Telram.und. 
All  shrank  back.  "Neither  shall  yc  condemn  me.  I 
killed  him,  but  he  came  to  seek  my  life.  Your  judgment, 
O   King! "  he  asked  of  Henry. 

The  King  stretched  his  hand  across  the  body  of  Tclra- 
mund  to  clasp  Lohengrin's. 

"The  saints  W(;ul(l  not  shield  him:  he  deserved  thy 
thrust,"  Henry  answered. 

"Once  more!  —  The  Lady  Elsa  has  betrayed  her 
promise.  I  am  undone.  Ye  all  heard  her  give  her  word 
that  she  would  never  ask  my  name  nor  country;  but  her 
impatient  heart  hath  broken  that  pledge,  and  her  injur- 
ious doubts  now  compel  me  to  tell  ye  all."  Everybody 
groaned   and   cried   out   sorrowfully.     They   had   entire 


458  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

faith  in  the  brave  knight,  and  loved  the  Lady  Elsa. 
All  regretted  that  her  curiosity  had  ruined  a  fair  future, 
deprived  them  of  their  defender,  and  made  her  own  life 
forever  miserable. 

"Now,  mark  well  what  I  say,"  the  knight  cried,  and 
while  he  spoke,  his  face  became  illimiinated  with  a  kind 
of  splendid  goodness  and  faith  in  his  own  integrity. 


In  distant  land,  by  ways  remote  and  hidden, 

There  stands  a  burg  that  men  call  Monsalvat; 
It  holds  a  shrine  to  the  profane  forbidden, 

More  precious,  there  is  naught  on  earth  than  that. 
And  throned  in  light,  it  holds  a  cup  immortal, 

That  whoso  sees,  from  earthly  sin  is  cleansed; 
'Twas  borne  by  angels  through  the  heavenly  portal, 

Its  coming  hath  a  holy  reign  commenced. 

Once  every  year  a  dove  from  heaven  descendeth. 

To  strengthen  it  anew  for  works  of  grace; 
'Tis  called  the  Grail;  the  power  of  Heaven  attendeth 

The  faithful  knights  who  guard  that  sacred  place. 
He  whom  the  Grail  to  be  its  serv'snt  chooses, 

Is  armed  henceforth  with  liigh  invincible  might; 
All  evil  craft  its  power  before  him  loses, 

The  spirits  of  darkness,  where  he  dwells,  take  flight. 

Nor  wiU  he  lose  the  awful  charm  it  lendeth, 

Although  he  should  be  called  to  distant  lands, 
When  the  high  cause  of  virtue  he  defendeth, 

While  he's  unknown,  its  spell  he  still  commands; 
By  perils  dread  the  holy  Grail  is  girded, 

No  eye,  rash  or  profane,  its  light  may  see; 
Its  champion  knight  from  doublings  shall  be  warded. 

If  known  to  man  he  must  depart  and  flee. 

Now  mark !  craft  or  disguise  my  soul  disdaineth, 
The  Grail  sent  me  to  right  yon  lady's  fame; 

My  father,  Percival,  gloriously  reigneth, 
His  knight  am  I,  and  Lohengrin  my  name! 


When  Lohengrin  had  ceased  to  speak,  having  told  his 
story,  all  that  Elsa  wished  to  know,  everyone  spoke  softly. 
They  were  enchanted  by  the  knight's  purity  and  goodness, 


Lohengrin  459 

and  full  of  sorrow  for  the  ruin  which  Eisa  had  brought 
about.  She  herself  cried  out  that  all  was  dark;  she  could 
no  longer  see;  she  felt  that  she  was  dying.  As  she  fell, 
Lohengrin  caught  her  in  his  arms. 

"Oh,  thou  wilt  not  leave  me  broken-hearted,"  she  said 
when  she  could  speak. 

"Alas!  I  must  go.  Thou  hast  brought  this  ruin  upon 
thyself,"  he  said  tenderly,  "I  was  not  free  to  tell  thee, 
but  if  thou  hadst  been  silent  for  a  year,  according  to  thy 
promise,  two  things  would  have  happened  to  make  thee 
happy.  I  would  then  have  been  freed  from  the  bond  and 
could  have  spoken  —  and  thy  lost  brother  would  have 
been  restored  to  thee."  Hearing  this  the  grief  of  all  was 
insupportable.  "I  must  return  to  guard  the  Holy  Grail," 
he  said  sadly.  At  that  moment  those  nearest  the  bank 
cried  out  that  the  swan  was  coming,  drawing  the  boat. 

Lohengrin  handed  his  sword  and  horn  and  ring  to  Elsa. 

"If  thy  brother  ever  returns  after  I  am  gone,  give  him 
these  things  in  token  of  me.  The  horn  will  bring  him 
help  in  battle,  the  sword  \\\\\  conquer  every  foe,  and  the 
ring  will  remind  liim  of  the  one  who  most  befriended  him 
and  who  saved  thee  from  suspicion  and  dishonour." 
He  kissed  her  again  and  again  in  farewell,  wliile  even 
the  nobles  wept;  but  as  he  was  about  to  enter  the  boat 
the  wicked  Ortrud  entered,  accused  him  of  falsehood, 
declared  that  she  had  wound  the  golden  band  worn  by 
the  swan  around  its  neck,  and  that  the  swan  was  the  lost 
brother,  enchanted  by  her.  "If  x\\y  kni2;ht  had  remained 
here,  his  magic  sj^ells  would  have  brought  thy  brother 
back  in  his  rightful  shape,  but  now  he  is  lost  to  thee  for- 
ever. The  knight  must  go,  and  I  will  kee;)  the  swan 
under  m\'  .•~;)ell."" 

Lohengrin,   who  had   stood   upon   the    bank    ILstening 


460  Operas  Every  Child  Should  Know 

to  all  this  sank  upon  his  knees  in  prayer.  All  looked 
toward  him,  waiting  in  awe  to  see  what  would  happen 
next.  The  white  dove  of  the  Holy  Grail  flew  slowly 
down  and  hovered  over  the  boat.  When  Lohengrin  saw 
it  his  face  shone  with  joy,  he  rose  and  loosened  the  chain 
from  the  swan,  which  immediately  sank  out  of  sight. 
Then  from  the  river,  rose  a  youth  in  shining  silver  gar- 
ments, while  Lohengrin  stooped  down  and  placed  him 
updft  the  bank.  It  was  Gottfried,  the  brother  of  Elsa, 
and  the  heir  of  Brabant. 

"Behold  thy  ruler!"  Lohengrin  cried,  affectionately 
looking  at  Elsa.  At  the  sight  of  Gottfried,  Ortrud 
shrieked  and  fell  down  in  a  fit,  which  might  have  ended  in 
death.  Lohengrin  jumped  into  the  boat  and  the  dove 
seized  the  chain  which  had  hung  loose  since  the  swan  had 
gone,  and  drew  it  along.  Elsa,  roused  from  her  stupor 
of  agony,  saw  her  dear  brother,  and  as  he  and  she  rushed 
into  each  other's  arms,  the  glorious  knight  slowly  passed 
from  sight,  having  brought  joy  to  all,  even  if  he  had  left 
sadness  wrought  by  a  woman's  curiosity. 


THE    COUNTRY    LIFE    PRESS,     GARDEN    CITY,     NEW    YORK 


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